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blushnote · 4 years

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rich girl | m.

⟡ word count: 6,708. ⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint. ⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.

summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe.

your parents don’t like wonwoo.

even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.

wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.

honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.

also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.

the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.

“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.

“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.

wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.

“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.

“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”

honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.

“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.

you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.

“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”

wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.

“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”

so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.

that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.

wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.

he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.

“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”

the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.

“rich girl? that’s not my name.”

wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.

“are you joking?�� he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”

you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”

you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”

wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.

“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.

what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.

“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”

“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”

you nearly choked.

“wha-what? are you… serious?”

wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.

“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”

you gaped widely at him.

“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”

in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.

“for your information i—,”

abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.

“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”

you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.

“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.

“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”

“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”

as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.

“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.

“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.

“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.

wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.

“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”

“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”

he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”

what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.

you wondered what would become of your relationship.

“where did you say you were going again?”

you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.

“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”

of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.

“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.

“i always do.”

“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.

“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.

“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”

you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”

“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”

“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.

this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.

“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.

your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.

“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.

consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.

“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”

you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.

the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.

eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.

“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”

“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”

wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”

you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.

“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”

his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.

wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.

after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.

“did you swallow it all yet?”

you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.

“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”

your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.

but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.

“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.

you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.

“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”

wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.

“what lie did you tell them this time?”

you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”

“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”

“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.

more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.

wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.

“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.

you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”

“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”

there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.

but for now, that seemed unattainable.

you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.

“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”

just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.

“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”

everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.

but that was a week ago.

“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.

winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”

“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.

you hated everything about this situation.

wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.

then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.

they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.

pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.

“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”

ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.

“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”

you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”

“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”

“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.

like that was fucking useful.

“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.

“exactly.” you falsely commended her.

she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”

if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.

now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.

you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.

“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.

you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.

“now?” he raised his eyebrow.

“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”

you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.

they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.

your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.

unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.

wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.

“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”

he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”

there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”

wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.

at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.

“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”

he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”

“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.

“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.

wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.

“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.

“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.

“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”

“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”

“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.

you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”

“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”

“are you sure?”

slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.

“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”

you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.

“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”

while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.

wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.

he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”

the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.

“yes please.” you lilted innocently.

wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.

he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”

as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy. “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”

your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.

“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.

“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”

wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”

you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”

“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.

“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”

you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.

that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.

whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.

right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen imagines

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fukurodanni · 3 years

Text

everything stays (but it still changes)

PART 1 || part 2 || part 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x photographer!reader summary: there are better people to see in the middle of a starbucks on a thursday afternoon - easier people. the man that broke your heart three years ago is definitely not one of them. word count: 2k note: a gift for @lonely-little-levi, who has a fondness for lemon tea and astronomy and karasuno’s beanpole of a middle blocker

It’s like a shitty romance novel.

Even so, you’re starting to think a romance novel would’ve been easier than this - frozen in the middle of a Starbucks in front of your highschool sweetheart, four years post-breakup.

Kei Tsukishima stands like an absolute lamppost at the counter, except he isn’t quite as lanky as he was then. He looks very dignified, you think, with an airpod in one ear and the tailored dress shirt that suggests he's just stepped out of a magazine. There’s nothing stopping you from saying hello except the mortifying ordeal that is confrontation, and the sudden, excruciating thumping in your sternum from seeing him after so long.

You'll only have to see him today, you think, so you watch him walk out without glancing in your direction. No biggie.

Except maybe it is a bit more of a biggie than you'd thought.

Tsukishima, apparently, plans on becoming a regular. And it’s like clockwork: Thursday and Friday afternoons, just as you're getting out of the car, the same mussed blond head of hair ducks out of the coffee shop and into his own car. He doesn't seem to notice you and it's only been long enough for you to notice the pattern - there is no eye contact, no acknowledgement.

It’s like high school all over again, and you sort of hate yourself for it but you know you’ll have to run in with him sooner or later - the familiarity of it all grips you by the collar and threatens to strangle you where you stand. One Thursday afternoon, though, after a blissful two weeks without an encounter, he spots you.

You freeze. The whole world freezes.

He stands not six feet away from you and his expression betrays nothing, which is immediately frustrating because you feel like your heart is going to force its way up your chest and you’re going to vomit the whole organ out onto his fancy leather shoes and then - and then he nods at you in acknowledgement.

And walks away.

Fucking Christ. That could have gone better. Despite your frantic pulse, relief washes over you at it not being an actual conversation - because at least he’s seen you now. Good. There isn’t anything else to be gained and the niggling regret of not having said anything isn’t large enough to concern you yet.

Surely you can handle the next one?

The afternoon after the first encounter, you’re sure you’ve jinxed it or something. You don’t see him there, don’t bother to look for his car, so you head in. It goes as mundane and routine as mundane routines go, and you’re very satisfied with the cup of tea warming your hands. You stand outside your car for a moment to check your phone - an email about a photoshoot next week - and nearly leap out of your skin.

“Are you here often?” His voice is low and smooth and washes over you like ice water.

Second time’s a charm. You turn to face him.

“Kei. You could afford to say hello, you know.” Your voice comes out a lot steadier than the rest of you feels.

“Hello,” he says blandly. “How come we haven't run into each other before?”

You can only shrug in response, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Maybe you’re just blind,” you reply coolly. “you look good, though. How’ve you been?”

His brow raises slightly, the barest indication of surprise. “Alright.”

There are about a million words swimming between the two of you, things left unspoken from years ago suddenly bubbling to the surface. His stoicism frustrates you endlessly, but he’s opened his mouth twice as if readying to say something. You’re just about to bite the bullet and ask about it when he finally says -

“Are you free this weekend?”

And the only witty thing you can think to respond with is, “Wow. Didn’t peg you as the eager type.” Which obviously isn’t the right thing to say because a look of hurt passes over his face before he wipes it completely. You feel yourself wince a little.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says. Tsukishima’s face morphs back to apathetic and you almost wish you’d said something a little gentler until his mouth gives into that trademark smirk, “but I’m glad that’s the first thing you had in mind.”

“Oh, sorry,” you scoff, gripping the cup a little tighter. “I forget to mention how you occupy my every waking thought.”

Hostility is a comfort and you wrap yourself in it like a blanket in the dead of winter. Tsukishima lets the silence hang for a beat or two before deciding to explain himself.

“I meant to catch up,” he explains, and his voice is softer this time - it catches you off guard, itches at you with deja vu. It sounds like Friday nights after school huddled up under a knitted blanket watching shitty dramas and summer mornings after staying up well past dawn - but you stuff it all into the back of your mind because that’s all very unimportant and you still haven’t given him an answer. You glance at his mouth, watching the way it forms syllables. “I wonder about you.”

The latter statement comes out a little quieter. It makes you question whether or not he really meant to say it. “Okay,” you nod. “Sunday, then. Are you free Sunday?”

Tsukishima nods stiffly. He has the same tells, you realize, as you watch his thumb smooth over the knuckle of his index finger. He’s nervous. It fills you with an obsolete sort of pride, like maybe you shouldn’t have remembered.

“Good-” he stumbles on his words. “It’s good to see you.”

It isn’t until you’re halfway home that you nearly drop your head onto the steering wheel in sharp realization. You hadn’t asked for a time.

You hardly remember what it is that first drew you to Tsukishima - you were both so young. It was a class or two together, and a mutual friend through Yamaguchi, and then a study date. And then another, and another, until you’d found yourself completely captivated by him: the funny way he snickered, the way his eyes welled with pride when you finally understood a concept, the way his lips curved into a smile he’d reserved only for you. The way his arms felt like coming home; like comfort and calm and relief.

It came all at once: precious and tentative, in coffee dates and starry nights, in hesitant museum outings and evenings spent buried under thick blankets. You’d looked at him one night, pulse thrumming with a perfect kind of joy, and called it love.

Your euphoria stuck like glue to fingers, tacky and hard to remove. Years of high school passed in vignettes, hazy and rose colored - a bustling, intoxicating romance that spanned the entire night sky. He called you his sun, his stars; looked at you as if you’d woven each constellation by hand. And you loved him so fiercely, your moonlight, a force to turn tides and bring oceans to their knees.

Graduation came along with a tearful and stilted goodbye, though not without a special promise to stay in touch. You recall the lump of worry knotted at the bottom of your throat that first night in university, sick with uncertainty and asking yourself how long you could possibly go on before disaster struck and pulled you from him for good.

But then he’d called the next morning and the croak of his voice, barely awake, was the softest sunshine after a lifetime in darkness. It soothed every ache and smoothed over your edges and suddenly there was no doubt that you’d be okay.

It fell apart so gently; sweet, hazardous smoke that filled every gap between you until it consumed all your sunshine. It was daily calls becoming weekly and then barely any at all; shorter texts and stilted visits and tense silences. It grows and grows and you find your thoughts wandering, traitorously, to whether or not it should be fixed. Maybe it isn’t meant to be.

You hate yourself for it and hate that you even consider it in the first place.

When it happens, it isn’t intentional. Things like this usually never are, you think, but you can’t recall how it began. It must have been so insignificant.

You remember, vaguely, the warmth of sun on your skin. The feeling of waking up pressed against Tsukishima, tucked into him, his breaths like the gentlest morning metronome. The warmth of his fingertips tracing stars onto your shoulder and fond, mumbled conversation - a languid and picturesque morning, sodden with quiet affection.

It finally comes as he’s leaving again - he’d only come for a weekend trip, after all, because that’s all he had time for then. He’s pulling on a jacket because fall is approaching and so is the cold, and pulls on a blank expression to match. You watch his hand fidget, thumb over finger, you know he’s nervous.

And then he asks to end it. As if you hadn’t just spent the morning in his arms.

It escalates like calm before a storm and you’re so confused, even though you know it’s been a long time coming. But, god, it feels so good to succumb to anger because it’s something besides the past few months - numbness like stagnant water. It bursts through dams you didn’t know you’d built and rolls over your tongue. It tastes like knives.

“So what, is that it?” You scoff despite yourself, trying to clear the lump in your throat. “You’re done with me because of a few missed calls?”

It’s not a few. You think about all the calls you’ve let ring deliberately purely because you just weren’t in the mood, or because he’d been so snippy on the last one or because you just didn’t have the time. You shouldn’t be ripping into him for this.

“Done with you-!” he repeats, incredulous, and it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice shift into this tone - awkward and frustrated and trying his very best not to yell because he still loves you so much, but the words are like magma in his throat and all that’s coming out is ash.

It frustrates him. So he can’t help but yell in that pained, strangled voice and hope it all makes sense why you can’t be together anymore. It tugs at the very core of his chest, burning unpleasantly - it tastes like bile rising high in his throat except none of it refuses to go and he’s left standing there with no idea of what to do, so he lashes out because of all things, at least he knows how to do that.

He’s like a fucked up pinball machine - managing to hit every guilt at the back of your mind, and you can’t show him that you’re affected. Can’t let him hear the words that feel glued to the roof of your mouth - begging him to reconsider and trying to fix it all when you’d pretended it wasn’t all going bad, too. So you stand there, frozen still. He looks sort of strangled, like he’s physically restraining himself from saying things and explaining himself and you recognize it, faintly, as a defense mechanism. He’s hiding from you.

You wonder when he’d started to do that.

The room is so thick with tension that it feels you might lose yourself in the way your chest tightens and curls in on itself - if you could just open the proverbial window and make it all better - when you quite literally watch Tsukishima’s resolve shatter. Because suddenly, he would rather walk away than mend this ugly rift between you, wide and monstrous. You hardly remember the tears cooling on your cheeks; only the weeks spent out of contact, trying to pick up broken pieces and figure out what it was to breathe without needles filling your lungs. The weeks after home was stripped away from you, trying to rid yourself of guilt and doubt and blame.

PART 1 || part 2 || part 3

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima imagine #tsukki #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu one shot #tsukishima fic #emu writes #my writing

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ellaenchanting · 3 years

Text

Hypnovember Day 18: Monster

Ellen sat in the back room of the coffeeshop quietly sipping her tea. The other members of the hypnosis meet up group were slowly gathering after their break, chatting and catching up before practice portion of their group officially started. She strategized about what it would be helpful for her to practice tonight. Her traitorous brain eagerly supplied some silly power fantasies. She quickly suppressed them. That kind of stuff wasn’t fair to think about here. It wasn’t everyone else’s fault that she was so warped.

Ellen both loved and hated the group. She wasn’t just into power fantasies- she was genuinely interested in hypnotherapy and doing hypnosis for fun. She had been very surprised to find a local hypnosis practice group existed at all where she could practice her skills and learn more . (It was tiring having to work up the nerve to bug her friends to volunteer to be practice subjects.) Of course, she was the youngest person there and usually the only woman but- that was OK. She had long ago accepted that that most actual hypnotists were middle aged men and she was an odd aberration.

She felt like an aberration in other ways too. Few of the hypnotists here seemed to struggle with nerves in the way she did. Group practice often brought those nerves on . She hated the way they would make her words come out stilted and wrong, her gestures awkward, and her metaphors so mixed up until they ultimately went nowhere. When it got really bad, Ellen’s childhood stutter would return in full force. It felt important and meaningful to her that she got it wrong so often- like she had failed to perform in some cataclysmic way.

It also felt meaningful when she got it right. Ellen would feel proud of herself for her mastery of something and then almost immediately the thought would sneak in- “if only they knew”. It’s not that the hypnosis she was doing with the group had a sexual charge- group members ranged from kinda- to very- not-her-type- but she could only imagine the disgust her subjects would feel if they knew the full range of thoughts she had about hypnosis internally. Or, even worse, if they could see her web browser history. How would they feel being taken advantage of by such a perverted monster?

In a lesser but still meaningful way, Ellen also felt annoyed that she had never quite been hypnotized yet despite many, many attempts. Usually practice time involved pairing up and switching turns being the hypnotist and the subject. Ellen would usually go along with others’ inductions and give them some technical feedback afterwards, but the truth was she rarely felt anything besides plain, comfortable relaxation. She knew there was more- she could see it in the reactions of some of the people she hypnotized and the incredible mental feats they performed. She had evidence that this kind of deep hypnosis existed. She just couldn’t access it herself.

Ellen was shaken out of her reverie by a voice.

““Hi! I heard your name was Ellen?””

She looked up to see the group’s newest member. He was a little older than her- probably mid- to late-twenties- and had a nice dark beard. When she replied with the affirmative, he extended his hand and shook hers confidently.

“Hi, I’m John. Do you have a practice partner yet?”

Ellen and John socialized a bit before starting their practice. This was normal at the meetings- partially because of mutual nerves but also because everyone welcomed the opportunity to geek out about an unusual personal interest. John said that had been doing hypnosis for about 5 years- around the same time she had- but he had already started a stage show and was planning on turning it from a hobby into a career. She was impressed. She found herself feeling surprisingly connected to him. She wondered if he had that effect on everyone he met. If so, it was a neat trick.

When they finally got down to practice, Ellen started by doing a modified Flowers induction. She had come in with the intention of throwing in a lot of language patterns into her induction- she had been drilling her Zeebu cards lately- but an odd change of mood happened as she watched John start to sink into hypnosis. Something about the way he responded to her words, melting and seeming to almost to throw himself into trance, triggered something in her. She found herself hovering closer to him, her voice going softer as she spoke closer to his ear.

She almost reached out and touched his arm when she remembered- no. That would be inappropriate. She caught herself and reminded herself to be professional. She gave John a few generic positive suggestions and then brought him back up out of trance.

John took a surprisingly short amount of time to recover, his expression showing alertness almost immediately. When she remarked on it, he told Ellen that he was actually a very practiced subject- that he had purposefully worked on his ability to be hypnotized. Ellen hadn’t even known that was possible to do- the research she had read strongly suggested that someone’s ability to be hypnotized was pretty static and unchangeable. She confessed to John that she always had difficulty being hypnotized and envied people who could access that state easily. She worked to keep the longing out of her voice as she described her desire for the experience of knowing she was deeply and truly hypnotized.

John paused for a moment after she spoke. He gave her a curious, searching look. Then his face cleared as he seemed to decide on something.

“Hey, do you mind if I try something a bit different?” he asked.

Ellen nodded. She switched positions with him and made herself comfortable as per his instructions.

“Can I touch you?” John asked.

All things considered, Ellen thought she hid her spike of excitement quite well. She nodded again.

John started steadily and confidently speaking to her as he traced a finger lightly up and down her hand. He wanted her to focus on the feeling of the finger going up and down, he said. Ellen gamely focused her attention. It felt nice, that light touch.

John continued to talk to her, telling her she didn’t have to worry about going into trance or getting sleepy or being hypnotized- all she had to do was focus on his touch. That was good- Ellen had historically bad luck with those concepts. She dutifully focused, even as she had some stray thoughts about how amazing John’s voice sounded. John’s fingers started to move to trace her arm up and then back down, all the while continuing to talk to her about focus and enjoying how the touch felt. Ellen still noticed some of the clever words he said, but the specifics were fading. It was all beginning to feel like a general wave of instruction washing over her. She was vaguely aware he was speaking to her more directly now and telling her how good she was doing and enjoyed how pleasant those things were. Suddenly-

“Sleep!”

John’s hand grabbed her arm and pulled it gently downwards. Ellen felt her eyes close as her head nodded forward. Her whole body slumped. Fortunately, John was kneeling in front of her and waiting to catch her. Once he did, he took her shoulder and rocked her deeper and deeper into trance with his words and his touch.

It felt amazing- just like she had always hoped that it would. John finally stopped rocking and took her hand. That gesture felt so right and lovely and perfect that Ellen felt herself quietly moan in response.

And then....she noticed she had done it.

Suddenly thoughts flew back into her mind. What was she doing? Did everyone else hear her? Were they watching her now? Were they realizing what a creepy pervert she was?

Ellen violently sat up, opened her eyes, and yanked her mind awake. Shaken, she took a moment to clench and unclench her hands, reminding herself that she had power over them. She was up. She had control of herself. She was OK.

After a few breaths, she looked around the room and noticed that no one else seemed to be looking at her. She resisted the urge to cry in relief.

She finally noticed John was there, still on his knees and giving her a concerned look. “Ellen?” he asked firmly. “How do you feel? What happened?”

She took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to....I made a noise and I didn’t mean to be...awkward. I’m really sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, going back into a more soothing voice. “Being hypnotized feels good sometimes, yeah? It’s ok to enjoy it. Is that what happened? It felt good in..in a way you weren’t expecting?”

Ellen nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m..weird, I didn’t mean to be weird,” she replied, still very flustered.

He looked at her gently. “You’re not...you’re not that weird. Listen, I get you might not want to talk about this here but- we could talk about it after practice maybe? I think we may have some things in common.”

Ellen thought about everything she had seen about erotic hypnosis online. All the misogyny. All of the shame and degradation people wrote about. She pictured the sexy stage show she had downloaded parts of and how much the hypnotist seemed to relish in people’s genuine embarrassment.

She remembered that she didn’t really know John at all.

“No!” she replied sharply. Then gentler- “I mean, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s OK. I’m OK.”

He nodded. “You are, you know. And it’s OK if you’re....if you’re not ready yet to talk about it. But- “ He made sure she was looking at him as he said the next part. “There’s nothing wrong with you. And- if you do ever want to talk more about it or even ask questions, here’s my card. Call me anytime, ok? I mean it.”

He produced a business card out of his pocket. Ellen hesitated, then took it.

Just then, the leader announced that their practice time was over and moved onto wrapup. Ellen waited for everyone’s attention to be gathered, then snuck out the back on the building. She needed some fresh air. She was done with hypnosis for tonight.

But she thought of the card, still in her jacket pocket, the whole bike ride home.

#Hypnovember #monster #poor lil Ella #I mean Ellen #things will get better #things that never happened to me #but arguably should have

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Push and Pull (Part 19)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, smut

--------

The punching bag swung wildly at the flurry of punches directed at it. Daphne was grunting as she hammered the shit out of it. She had a lot of things to work through. If there were two things she hated more than anything, it was not being in control and being confused, both of which she was dealing with. She wondered when things got so messy for her. She had friends now and then there was the whole thing with Matt. On top of that, the Italian situation seemed to be ramping up several notches and even her personal cases were linked with it or just ended up crazier than normal. Everything felt like it was spiralling and she hated it.

Her wrapped fists pelted the bag as she worked through all those thoughts. Worked through her talk/argument with Foggy the day before and Karen's words before that. She just needed it all out and sex with Matt, no matter how amazing it had been, wasn't really on the tables anymore. She longed for those days back, as short lived as they were. They didn't like each other but they weren't like this. And sex with him had been the best cure for her messy brain than anything else she’d ever tried.

She punched the bag even harder, channeling all of her negative emotions into it.

"Your form's all sloppy," a voice rang out behind her. She gasped, whipping around to come face to face with Matt. He'd scared the shit out of her creeping up like that.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in her panic, a hand over her rapidly beating heart. He chuckled a little. She noticed he was wearing his gym gear and he had a box in his hands.

"I uh… this was my gym first," he murmured wryly. She nodded stiffly and stepped away from the bag. She felt stupid for even asking him that.

"Right… I'll just… leave," she muttered, moving to grab her backpack from the bench.

"You don't have to leave. I wanted to speak to you," he replied with a hesitant smile. She stood up straighter, not knowing where this was going or how bad it would get.

"I recognise I'm not the easiest person to be around. And I can say I'm sorry but it means nothing if I keep repeating the same mistakes. But I know I went too far… and since my words won't mean much… I got you these," he said carefully. He held out the box he'd been holding and she looked at it curiously for a moment before she took it.

She hesitantly opened it and furrowed her brows. It was a pair of boxing gloves. A deep purple and black with her initials embroidered into them. She didn't really know what to say.

"These are… I… thank you," she mumbled awkwardly. She wasn't used to gifts. She pulled them out, plonking the box on the bench as she turned them over to inspect them. They were really well made and she noted the colour was a close match to her hair.

"I know it's not much and it doesn't make up for me being… well me. But…" he trailed off uncertainly. She really had no clue on how to respond to this kind of thing and she hadn't expected it. It made her chest feel strange.

She blinked up at him and then something dawned on her she'd missed.

"How did you know I'd be here?" She asked, confused. She hadn't told anyone she'd been coming here and he made it seem like he'd come here knowing she'd be there. He let out an uncomfortable chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. She squinted slightly and waited for him to answer.

"I… I know you've been coming here," he replied vaguely.

"How?" She pressed. He shifted on his feet looking awkward and it threw her off.

"I could... smell you… the last few times you've been here. I knew you've been here," he replied softly.

Her eyebrows almost flew off her head at that.

"Smell me? What do you mean you could smell me?" She scoffed, thoroughly offended. He grimaced, another uncomfortable laugh leaving his lips as he looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

"Everyone has their own distinct scent, including you," he explained as his eyes were in her general direction. She blinked for a moment before licking her lower lip. His senses were so weird sometimes.

"What do I smell like?" She asked with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. A brief smile crossed his lips as he cleared his throat.

"Usually lavender and ylang-ylang… mixed with something that's just… you. It's hard to explain, I know it's… weird," he muttered, shaking his head. He looked almost embarrassed and she decided to take pity on him.

"I don't envy you. I can't imagine how bad it is walking the streets with a nose like that," she teased softly. He seemed to relax a little and smiled too.

"It's not great," he chuckled. She was clutching her new gloves to her chest and felt very aware of the delicate situation between them. She hated that it felt so fragile. Like she wasn't sure if she'd say the wrong thing and they'd go back to square one.

"I'll uh… I’ll get out of your hair," he said quietly with a nod, moving to the door. Foggy's words pinged around her brain like a ping pong ball.

"You're gonna give me some awesome new gloves and not even spar with me?" She asked with a playful scoff. He stopped where he was, glancing back at her.

"It is pretty rude of me," he replied with a hesitant smile. He walked back over and started wrapping his own hands as she slipped the gloves on. They fit like a dream and she kept admiring them. She wished she had words to express that she was grateful but it just wouldn't come to her. She just had to hope he already knew.

The whole exchange was stilted. They sparred a little and refreshed what he’d already taught her. But where there was usually biting comments or teasing remarks, it was just instruction and silence. Things were still too fresh to just go back to being semi assholes with each other and it made the whole thing feel off and weird.

She sat on the bench when they were done as she removed her gloves and put them back in the box. Matt took a drink from the fountain before standing back up and glancing her way.

"Karen told me about our new client. I'm pretty sure you single handedly saved our firm," he grinned a little, trying to make conversation.

"Well someone had to. Nelson and Murdock have become quite important around these parts," she replied with a soft snort.

"You didn't have to," he murmured with a shake of his head.

"I know. I wanted to," she said firmly. She stood up and gripped hold of the box. She was half expecting him to argue with her but he didn't.

"I appreciate it. We all do," she could hear the sincerity in his voice and she gave him a little smile.

"Honestly, I was just sick of Foggy bitching about being paid in pies," she snorted as they made their way to the door.

"He did seem more receptive to the peach cobblers," he chuckled, holding her arm just like normal as they stepped outside.

"Speaking of which, shouldn't you be at work right now?" She questioned, glancing up at him. He smiled to himself with a shrug.

"Technically speaking… yes," he smirked. She shook her head with a rueful smile, feeling like it might be possible to save this thing with them.

"You coming out drinking tonight?" She asked. The pair were walking slowly, weaving through the people in the street.

"If I'm not needed somewhere else," she knew that somewhere else entailed him in a mask and suit and she nodded.

"Had any concussions recently?" She teased, earning a snort in response.

"Thankfully no. But don't jinx it," he grinned.

She stopped walking causing him to halt too and he blinked down at her. His eyes seemed brighter in the sunlight and she noted his lack of glasses.

"You're glasses missing?" She teased softly.

"Nah. But someone once told me they liked my eyes so… I figured maybe I'd wear them less," he smirked. She felt her cheeks heat up and she bit her lip. It made her stomach flutter and she had no idea why she was feeling so weird today.

"Well they were right. They seem like a really wise person," she said with a cheeky grin. He laughed, tilting his head a little as he gazed around her face

"Sometimes," he replied slyly. She poked him in the chest and he grunted with a laugh.

"Well as much as I’d love to guide the blind man… wherever the fuck you're going, I have to head home and do laundry," she murmured. He nodded, gripping his cane tightly.

"Sounds like fun," he replied, lips quirked up a little.

"Super fun. I don't know how I'll contain myself," she snorted as she stepped away from him.

"I'll see you tonight if Hell's Kitchen isn't on fire," she smirked. He gave her a nod and she turned around to make her way home.

As much as she hadn't expected to see him, she hadn't wanted to really. But she was glad she did. It was still a little awkward and weird but things seemed to be not so bad anymore. He seemed like he was really trying so she was too. That didn't mean once the delicate state ended they wouldn't go back to snarking at each other and pissing each other off. That was their whole thing. But that was very different to the state of things the last few days.

She spent some time at home, cleaning and doing her laundry and just making sure things were in order. She wasn't dreading that night now things were a little smoothed over with him. She was excited to see Foggy and Karen too. Hopefully her social life would calm the fuck down again so she could just worry about the other bullshit in her life.

Night time rolled around a lot quicker than she expected and she struggled on what to wear. The weather was warmer in the day but at night it got a bit cooler. She settled on her high-waisted skinny jeans with a cropped black sweater that slipped off the shoulder a little. She slipped her phone and money in her pocket and stuffed her boots on, redoing her high pony before she slipped out the door.

It didn't take too long to get to Josie's, she'd only ever been here a few times but she liked how chill it was. It was a bit of a dive which meant not many people went there. When she walked through the door, she noticed Foggy and Karen sat chatting at a table. Matt was noticeably missing and she didn't like the pang in her chest that came with that realisation.

"Daphne!" Foggy beamed, jumping up and squeezing her as she got over to them. She snorted, patting his back before he let go. Karen stood then and gave her a tight hug.

"Wow, you guys are already getting through it, huh?" Daphne smirked as they sat back down.

"Just a little," Karen giggled.

"I guess I need to catch up then," she said slyly. She went to the bar and ordered a bottle of whiskey, because why the hell not, and sat back down with three shot glasses.

"Where's Matt?" Daphne enquired softly, trying to sound nonchalant. Karen smiled behind her hand and glanced to Foggy.

"He had some stuff he needs to do," he gave her a look and she knew where he was. Running around Hell's Kitchen and beating the shit out of people.

"Did you guys fix things?" Karen asked hopefully. Both her and her new boyfriend seemed a little tipsy and Daphne quickly filled up her glass and slammed back the shot.

"Kind of. Mostly. We talked it out and stuff when I saw him at the gym earlier," she said awkwardly. Foggy clicked his fingers and looked like he'd just had a grand epiphany.

"That’s where he was! Doctors appointment, my ass! He never goes to the doctors!" Foggy grouched, acting like he was bothered by the small lie. Karen laughed at him which only served to make him pout.

"Did it go okay?" Karen pressed. Daphne supposed she shouldn't have been surprised they’d want to talk about it. Matt was their best friend.

"Yeah. I think it did. It was a little weird. Kinda stilted, you know? We were being kind of polite and it felt weird. But it just felt too soon to go back to normal. He said he's sorry again though and got me a gift," she murmured, slurping another shot. She was trying to play catch up with them and she wasn't sure how long they'd already been drinking for.

"A gift?! What was it?! Flowers?! Chocolates?!" Foggy was practically bouncing in his seat and Karen shushed him with a giggle as people looked over. Daphne snorted and shook her head.

"Boxing gloves. They were black and purple and had my initials on them," she said with a soft smile.

Karen 'aw'ed at her and Foggy looked perplexed for a moment, the more drunk out of her two friends. He looked like the information was trying to ease its way through the layers of alcohol.

"That's ridiculously sweet, oh my god," Karen gushed. Daphne rolled her eyes and poured them all some shots.

"Boxing gloves? That's… genius! That's like your thing you do with him! That's so more personal than chocolates or flowers!" Foggy smacked himself on the head and Daphne raised her brows amused at him.

"It was sweet but let's not read too much into it," she muttered, pushing the shots towards them. They accepted and all drank them at the same time. Thankfully the conversations steered away from that topic. As much as she was grateful for the gift and for things to start to return to normal she didn't need her drunk friends to start going on about them getting together again.

The night wore on and they all made good conversation. By the end of the night they were all pretty intoxicated. Them more so than her. But she started to feel a little bit like the third wheel. Foggy had tried to say he'd walk her home but she’d waved him away and said she'd get a cab. She didn't want to ruin their moment.

She was swaying on her feet when she got out of the cab and she was sure she gave the driver way too much but she couldn't bring herself to care. She had to lean against the wall as she struggled up the stairs but she pushed through and got there in the end. After fighting with her door for what felt like an eternity, she finally got it open. She grinned at herself for her accomplishment. She was wasted.

She padded further into the apartment, almost falling when she tried to get her boots off, knocking over some things on the kitchen counter nearest the door. She heard a tapping noise and she glanced around, her face scrunched up as she tried to figure out what it was. She heard it again but more firmly and her eyes went to the window. She blinked slowly at the figure on her fire escape.

"Satan?" She whispered, more than confused. After a beat, her face dawned with recognition.

"Ohhh. Oh!" She grinned as she walked over with sloppy steps and pushed the window open. There stood Matt in full Daredevil attire and a vaguely amused look on his face.

"It's you!" She beamed.

"Wow, you're… drunk," he chuckled.

"Maybe. Come in," she snorted as she moved away from the window. She watched him climb inside like a graceful lion and then she went into her kitchen area. She crouched down, rummaging through her cupboards as he stood watching her perplexed.

"Ah-ha!" She grinned triumphantly, standing with a bottle of tequila in her hands.

"What are you doing?" Matt asked patiently, like he was talking to a small child. She waltzed over on unsteady feet and set the bottle on the coffee table.

"I missed you," she pouted. She'd hate herself in the morning but she was too far gone to stop this whole thing. His mouth floundered a moment before he chuckled.

"Really?" He asked skeptically.

"Mhm. I think that…'' she trailed off, closing the gap with them as she reached up and pulled his mask off. His hair was all over the place and she had a dopey smile on her face as she tried to fix it.

"I think you should drink with me so I'm not just a sad lonely drunk," she fluttered her lashes, not that he could see them as she finally released his hair.

"I can't. I have to be out there," he said softly. She frowned and her lower lip jutted out slightly.

"Please?" She whined. He hung his head a little as he pursed his lips.

"I really can't, Daphne. I'm sorry," he said regretfully. Her face fell completely and she glanced to the floor.

"Oh, okay," she didn't mean to sound so pitiful but it happened anyway.

She moved away and heard him go to the window and it closing. She presumed he'd gone again but when she turned around he was still there, tossing his mask onto the coffee table.

"You're staying?!" She asked hopefully.

"I'll stay," he relented with a smile. Maybe he took pity on her. She flung her arms around him with a beaming smile and his hands came around her as he snorted at her over-the-top happiness. His hands settled on her lower back as he just let her hug him.

She moved away and grabbed the bottle thrusting it into his hand.

"You need to catch up 'cause I think I might be drunk," she murmured.

"Really? I couldn't tell," he smirked. She sat sideways on the sofa and watched as he took a really long drink from the tequila with a grimace.

"You take your suit off, get comfy," she said absentmindedly. He quirked a brow in her direction, bottle still in hand.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked," he smirked.

"That would just be a bonus. Besides… your best bits will be covered," she vaguely gestured to his crotch area and he laughed.

"I don't know how I feel about that being my best bits," he murmured as he took a long glug before he set the bottle down and started undoing his suit.

"Okay, so not your best bits. Your face is the best bit, but that's a close second," she grinned cheekily at him. He smiled shyly before shimmying out of the suit. He lay it over the armchair, now only in his black boxers as he walked over and sat beside her on the couch. In her drunk state, she couldn't stop looking at him even if she wanted to.

He picked up the bottle, taking another very large drink and even through her alcohol induced state she knew he’d already rapidly caught up to her.

"You're staring," he murmured, glancing her wry with a smirk.

"Excuse me, sir! It's not my fault that you're so goddamn attractive!" She objected, poking him in the side. He let out an unexpected laugh, leaning away from her touch and amazed grin spread across her lips.

"Oh my god! Is the big bad Daredevil ticklish?!" She laughed, having a hard time containing herself.

"I'm sensitive to touch!" He defended, laughing again when she tickled his side.

"Stop!" He laughed, trying to wriggle away, but she just followed him in her thorough amusement.

He caught her wrists and she squeaked as he gently yanked her closer to him. She blinked up at his beautiful hazel eyes and got lost for a moment.

"It's not fair you're so pretty," she pouted softly. He released her hands, the pair sat close, facing each other.

"You're prettier," he smiled. She snorted and shook her head.

"Nuh uh. You can't even see me!" She giggled and made him chuckle.

"Foggy tells me I have a gift with sensing beautiful women," he smirked.

"What if he's lying?" She countered with a grin.

He reached both his hands up and her eyes fluttered shut as he touched her face. She felt all tingly as his fingers trailed over her face with a featherlight touch. He seemed to touch every inch of her face and when he dropped one hand, the other tucking some stray hairs behind her ear, she smiled up at him.

"Turns out he wasn't lying," he whispered with a sly smirk.

"I'm not convinced," she said softly, closing her eyes again when he leaned closer. His nose trailed along her cheek and she splayed a hand on his chest.

His nose softly led him down to her neck and she took a shaky breath as he left a trail of goosebumps. He started peppering her neck with soft kisses and she felt like she was free falling, her heart hammering away. She could feel his own under her hand on his chest and it seemed to beat in tandem with hers.

He gave her a teasing nip on the sensitive flesh of her neck and she let out a breathy moan. Her head was swimming and she could only think about one thing. She moved away, standing up and he looked taken aback for a second. But she stayed close to where he sat, tilting his head up to her a little. He seemed intently focused on her as she pulled her cropped sweater over her head, tossing it on the sofa. His large hands smoothed up her legs before they reached her button and zipper, deftly undoing them for her. She ran a hand through his hair as he tugged her jeans down her legs, giggling to herself a little as she was unsteady on her feet and it took a little longer than it should.

He stood with a grin on his face as his hands smoothed up her back, unclasping her bra and sliding it off.

"Convinced yet?" He murmured, leaning down and brushing her lips with his. She shook her head with a coy smirk and he chuckled. His lips didn't connect with hers, just floating there and teasing her relentlessly as his hands settled on her hips. She felt him walking her backwards and she had no idea what he was doing until the back of her knees hit her bed. In her drunken state, she ended up falling back on it with a laugh, bringing him down with her. Her legs were dangling off and he was hovering over her with an amused look, arms either side of her to prop himself up so he didn't smush her.

He was gazing down at her and she smiled, sliding a hand down his very toned chest. She rubbed a hand over the bulge in his boxers and he groaned, lowering his head a little. With a smirk, she palmed him a little firmer and he gasped, arching into her hand. She idly wondered why they'd never taken the time to tease each other like this before. She was enjoying herself. He placed a soft kiss to her neck, sliding down slowly and leaving kisses in his wake. She squirmed at the attention and bit down on her lower lip.

He gave her nipple a teasing suck as he continued his descent and she moaned, earning a breathy noise from him in response. He continued to assault her with teasing kisses and nips in a painfully slow pace before he hooked his fingers into her panties and tugged them down. She propped herself up on elbows, watching him carefully as he knelt down and manoeuvred them off her legs and tossed them haphazardly. He glanced to her, as if he could really see her, his hands sliding up the inside of her thighs and parting them.

He replaced his hands with his mouth, leaving open mouth kisses on the inside on her thigh. Her breath was coming in heavy as the anticipation started killing her. His devilish smirk against her skin told her he knew exactly what he was doing. A loud moan left her lips when he finally made contact where she needed it. First it was a teasing lick to her clit and then he started swirling his tongue around it. She lay back down with a dull thud, her hand fisting his hair as she gasped. He moaned against her, going at it more vigorously at her delighted noises.

He used his shoulders to nudge her legs to perch themselves on them moving as close as he could as he switched between sucking on her clit and licking it. She couldn't stop squirming and he hooked his arms around her thighs, locking her in place. She was muttering a slew of curse words, her back arching as she felt the heat creep up her spine. She was in heaven, panting and moaning more with each passing second. Her pleasure was only furthered by the noises he was making, clearly having a good time himself.

One of his arms moved but she couldn't see from where she was laying. But then she felt two fingers inside of her and she gasped, her whole body starting to tremble. He moved his mouth away, his fingers curling up inside of her and the noise she made didn't even feel human to her.

"Cum for me," he bit out, voice raw and demanding. She let out a needy whine at what that did to her. His mouth descended on her again and with his fingers too, she lost it. Her back arched up as her body tensed, a keening moan leaving her lips as she forgot to breathe for a minute. She felt like she saw stars as he carried her through her high.

Once her body relaxed, he moved away and she lay there panting, trying to come back to earth. She sat up a little, hair all over and very pink cheeks. He gave her a cheeky grin and he wiped his mouth.

"Haven't heard those noises before," he smirked at her. She just hummed, still feeling like she wasn't quite back in her body yet.

"Am I dead? I think I'm dead," she murmured softly, a dazed tone to her voice. He chuckled, laying down beside her and tilting her face to his.

"I hope not, because I'm not done with you yet," he purred against her lips. Was he always this fucking hormone inducing or was the booze making it worse? She was putty in his hands and she was helpless to stop it.

She leant over, capturing his lips in a needy kiss that he gladly reciprocated. His hands roamed her body and she moaned softly, still floating from her earlier release. She moved away, getting to her knees and looking down at him.

"I suggest you get comfy," she shot him a lopsided grin and he snorted, obliging her request as he moved to lay with his head on the pillows. She knelt between his legs, dragging his boxers down and letting his impressive erection spring free. His hazel eyes were hovering in her direction and he bit down on his lower lip as she straddled him.

His hands instantly went to her hips, thumbs rubbing circles on them as he smiled up at her. She bent down, nipping at his lip and he gasped, arching up and rubbing himself on her.

"You were a pretty big tease and I think it's time for payback," she smirked against his lips. He let out a dark chuckle, fingers digging into her hips as his lips chased hers, but she denied him. She ground herself against him and he let out a deep groan, arching up at her again. She sat up fully, rubbing her slick heat on his cock as she took his hands and slid them up her body. His eyes darkened, breathing heavier as he caressed her curves and she knelt up slightly, gripping his cock to line him up.

She didn't sink down fully onto him though, barely the tip and he grunted in frustration, pulling her face down to his. She smirked wickedly as he panted against her mouth but everytime he arched up to her she moved away.

"Daphne," he pleaded, his voice a breathy whisper. She watched his face intently before sinking down onto him fully in one swift movement.

"Jesus christ!" He gasped, his back arching up off the bed. She felt pleased with herself at his reaction before she started rolling her hips.

He sat up with lightning speed and gripped her tightly, smashing his lips to hers as he rut up into her desperately. She moaned greedily into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck as she let him guide her. The apartment was filled with moans and gasps from the pair as they chased their release. She was sensitive from the first time and she felt it creeping back up on her rapidly. If she wasn't drunk she'd be worried about what her neighbours thought of her high pitched moans as he fucked the life out of her. She broke the kiss from sheer need to breathe, she could barely catch her breath with each thrust and she gripped his shoulders. One of his arms snaked around her lower back for leverage and the other hand gripped her jaw lightly. He rested his forehead on hers and groaned when he felt her start to tighten around him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, like a mantra on repeat as it hit her. Her lips parted in a silent moan, squirming against him as it washed over her. He was moaning loudly against her lips as he thrust up to her a few more times before stilling completely. She sagged against him a little, feeling like her bones had dissolved, and he wrapped his arms around her. His hands smoothed the skin on her back as they caught their breath, her head on his shoulder tiredly.

"Convinced now?" He asked breathlessly. She snorted, nodding against his shoulder and she felt him kiss hers in return.

Reluctantly she moved off him, flopping on the bed next to him. She wriggled around trying to get into the covers that were underneath her and he watched in amusement but gave no help. Once she was in he got under the covers too. He held his arm out, patting his chest with his other hand in silent question. She didn't hesitate to move over, laying on her side with her head on his chest. His arm curled around her protectively and his other hand went into her hair, massaging her scalp and she hummed at the feeling. If she was sober she'd never let this kind of intimacy happen. But she was very drunk and feeling on cloud 9 so that was a problem for future Daphne.

"What do I smell like now?" She mumbled sleepily without thinking. His arms tightened around her as he pressed his lips to her hair.

"Me," he replied, sounding just as tired but more than pleased with himself. She giggled sleepily into his chest and she felt his it vibrating a little. It didn't take long before they both fell asleep in each other's arms.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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shijiujun · 4 years

Text

under the light of the moon - part 1

Inspector Qiao doesn’t recognise Lu Yao, his boyfriend of two years and his best friend for longer than that, after a hard hit to the head and a week spent in a coma.

Lu Yao has to get Chusheng to fall in love with him, all over again.

☞ part 2 (later this week)

This is not the Qiao Chusheng he knows, Lu Yao shudders the moment he sees him.

He would know Qiao Chusheng anywhere, his every expression and gaze burned into his heart, his every movement, the way he speaks, and even if the man turned into ashes, Lu Yao swears he would know him.

The man before him is not his Lao Qiao.

Lu Yao feels the bile rise in the back of his throat. All week, Lu Yao has been praying for Chusheng to wake up, to end this nightmare he’s currently in. The nightmare that began when he got a call from Ah Dou late at night a week ago, the man panicking over the phone because Inspector Qiao was hit by a car and he’s bleeding really badly and just come to the hospital-

Hours of surgery and Lu Yao sat outside almost catatonic, not responding to anyone, not even Youning.

All he could think was, what if he leaves me?

And to think, just that morning, Chusheng finally agreed to a short holiday to visit Lu Yao’s hometown, Hai Ning, in three weeks.

Don’t wait up, I’ll see you later, he said.

It was touch and go for the next few days after the surgery, and Lu Yao held onto Chusheng’s hand so tightly that Youning had to put hers over theirs, patting gently and squeezing his shoulder with her other hand.

Of course Chusheng chose to wake up when Lu Yao left to get a coffee days later, rather than all the other times that Lu Yao sat next to him, fervently wishing for the man to open his eyes.

Lu Yao almost asks if this is a joke, if Lao Qiao is getting back at him for that time he got shot and then pretended to be dumb when he woke up, but it only takes a single look at those eyes to know that it’s real, before Chusheng even says a single word.

“Who’re you?” Chusheng asks, polite but distant and a little annoyed, just like when they first met.

It’s Youning who breaks the awkward, stunned silence, “Ge, don’t joke around, how could you… we’ve all been so worried, especially San Tu-“

“Who?” frowns Chusheng.

“Lu Yao,” Youning blinks, incredulous, “This is… This is Lu Yao. Ge, don’t tell me you’ve really forgotten-“

Chusheng raises his hand, the bandages around his head surely uncomfortable, and that’s when the glint of a gold ring on his fourth finger catches his eyes.

“I’m married?” he asks, even more confused. “Who did I marry, Youning?”

Ah Dou, Salim and Youning turn to look at Lu Yao.

“You’re joking,” Chusheng huffs in misplaced amusement. “How could I have married a man-“

Lu Yao sucks in a sharp, deep breath, and then he snaps, “Finish that sentence and you can go back to being single again.”

Stunned at the icy tone and fury underlining each word, everyone turns to stare at Lu Yao with wide eyes, and even Chusheng himself startles.

With that said, Lu Yao then turns on his heels and walks out.

Youning looks between Chusheng and Lu Yao, and in the end, she chooses to chase after Lu Yao, leaving Chusheng to Ah Dou and Salim. Salim exchanges a look with Ah Dou, and promptly leaves, as if saying I’m not paid enough for this, you handle it.

“Ge, what year… what do you remember?”

Chusheng frowns, and then thinking carefully, he answers, “Didn’t Boss Bai… he asked me to report to the police station tomorrow? As Inspector? You were there too, Ah Dou.”

Ah Dou nods slowly, and because there’s no way to hide it from him or ease him into it, he says, “Ge, you’ve lost three years.”

At that, Chusheng is stunned into silence.

Three years?

“And that man?” Chusheng asks, “So when I asked if I was married, you meant…”

“Well, you’re not officially married because there aren’t laws for that now, but… it’s common knowledge that the both of you are in a committed relationship with each other. And you gave Detective Lu the power to sign on your behalf in emergencies, so bank account, hospital, the house, everything… which means you’re as good as married,” Ah Dou points out. “Whatever you do, don’t take off the ring. Detective Lu is going to be pissed if you take it off and… Ge, I think you’ll regret it if you do.”

Chusheng looks down at the plain gold band, twisting it around his finger. He shifts it upwards a little and sees a band of lighter skin matching the ring exactly.

He must have worn this for quite a bit, then.

“Tell me everything,” Chusheng sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples.

===

“San Tu! San Tu!” Youning calls, running after him as he stalks out of the hospital.

With his long legs and at the speed he’s walking, Youning would probably have lost him, but Lu Yao stops right at the curb of the road, then turns around to look at her just as she reaches him.

“That ungrateful bastard,” Lu Yao snaps, seething with rage and hurt, “How could he forget me?! He remembers you, Ah Dou, Salim and probably all the women at the night club or brothel, but he forgot me!”

“San Tu ah, don’t be angry,” Youning cajoles, tugging at his hand. “It’s… it’s probably temporary, so just… he didn’t mean it. Chusheng-ge didn’t mean it, how could he forget you for real? You- just breathe, if you faint here I can’t carry you, San Tu!”

Lu Yao inhales hard at Youning’s reminder, looking away as he tries to compose himself.

“He laughed at the thought of marrying me!” Lu Yao says through gritted teeth, “I wasn’t the one who begged him to put my name on the things he owned, and I didn’t ask him to give me a ring!”

At that, Lu Yao reaches for his own matching ring, and Youning grabs at his hand frantically, “San Tu! Are you mad, don’t be so impulsive!”

Fine, he thinks, dropping his hands to his side, because even as angry as he is, if he takes off his ring, that would mean the end of it, so how could he really bear to take it off?

“How could Chusheng-ge really forget you? You’re, you’re-“ Youning forces a smile at the ridiculous things she’s about to say next, “You’re his baobei*, his xin shang ren*, and you’re right, he chased you. Don’t be angry, okay?”

The more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets. Lu Yao turns and walks away, and alarmed, Youning yells, “Where’re you going?”

“To make dinner for him!” Lu Yao hollers back.

Not that the man deserves it, he sulks, picking up the pace so he can get home faster.

He returns three hours later with a flask of hot soup, and he’s had three hours to think through it.

He knows what a strange situation this must be for Chusheng. Waking up to realize that you’ve lost three years of your memories, stuck three years ago when everyone else is living ahead. From what Ah Dou said to him, dropping by earlier after talking to Chusheng, there’s probably no way to tell when he will regain his memories, if at all.

Lu Yao is a doctor himself, and if the doctors in the hospital can’t do the job, he’ll make sure Chusheng remembers.

He won’t allow Chusheng to forget him, but Lu Yao has to be careful too. He doesn’t want to force Chusheng to remember, lest his memory gets worse.

Chusheng is seated up in bed and awake, reading through the newspapers for the day, when Lu Yao arrives. Hesitantly, Lu Yao knocks on the door twice, and the man looks up at the noise.

“Ah,” Chusheng says, a little awkward. “Lu Yao… right? Ah Dou told me some of it earlier. I’m sorry, I don’t-“

“It’s not your fault, what’re you apologizing for?” Lu Yao cuts him off as he walks in, because he doesn’t need another reminder that Chusheng doesn’t remember him. “I made soup, if you’re hungry.”

“… now that you mention it,” Chusheng replies with a small smile, “Thank you, you didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

Lu Yao scoops out a bowl for him, and then with stilted movements, passes the bowl over to Chusheng.

If Chusheng didn’t forget him, Lu Yao probably would have insisted on feeding him.

Well, now they can both be disappointed.

“You cook? This is delicious,” Chusheng says, looking up.

“Then eat more,” Lu Yao inches the flask closer to Chusheng on the table. “You’ve lost a lot of weight from the week you were asleep.”

He eats in silence until the entire flask is empty. That Lu Yao is able to do something for Chusheng when he could do nothing but sit at his side this entire week eases the knot that’s been building up over the past few days in his chest slightly.

This Chusheng, however, is so polite and careful that it hurts. Even in the beginning when they first met, Lu Yao’s first meeting with the man ended up with a black eye for him, and Chusheng was rude too, accusing him of murder.

“The doctor says you can be discharged tomorrow. I-“ Lu Yao pauses. “Youning and I discussed it. We’ll swap houses for a while so she can take care of you while you… recover.”

“But that’s your house too, isn’t it?” asks Chusheng, surprised. “I won’t chase you out of your own house. In fact, your name is on the house. If anyone should be moving, it should be me.”

At the thought of Chusheng moving out, Lu Yao freezes. He probably doesn’t mean it that way, but all Lu Yao hears is that Chusheng wants to leave, wants to leave him and can’t even stand the thought of being in the same house as he.

The hurt he feels at that must show on his face, because Chusheng sighs a moment later, “Lu Yao. I’m… I’m sorry if I’m making this difficult on you. None of us has to move out.”

“Okay,” Lu Yao breathes, nodding. “You have two rooms, I’ll move into the study. And if you’re uncomfortable with anything, you should let me know.”

Chusheng nods in response, and he’s not sure why his panic recedes when he sees the furrow between Lu Yao’s eyes disappear. Some part of him remembers, Chusheng supposes, even if the part of his brain that has memories of Lu Yao in it is entirely blank.

“… then, I’ll go back first and pack up the house a little,” Lu Yao decides, even though he wants to stay here, right at Chusheng’s side. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow with Youning.”

His presence is more likely to trouble Chusheng than anything at this point, and Lu Yao knows that.

“Okay,” Chusheng agrees, sounding a little relieved.

Lu Yao tries not to let it get to him. You love this man, he tries to remind himself.

Outside the door, Liu Zi and some of Chusheng’s other brothers stand guard. At the sight of him, they straighten, looking at him with something akin to expectation and hope. When Lu Yao only shakes his head, it’s almost comical the way all their shoulders droop.

Liu Zi pats at Lu Yao’s shoulder, “Si-ge will remember, sao-zi. Don’t worry, we’ll keep him safe, so you should go back and take a rest.”

Lu Yao glares at the man for calling him that, but relents after a moment. “If there’s anything, call me.”

“Hnn. Ah Ming, send Lu-ge home.”

At home, however, lying in their bed for the last time in a long while, Lu Yao finds himself unable to sleep despite how tired he is.

What if Chusheng never remembers him?

===

For the most part, they try not to get in each other’s way once Chusheng returns home. As promised, Lu Yao sets up a makeshift bed in the study and pretends he doesn’t see how relieved his boyfriend looks when he sees the bed ready for one person only.

You can’t rush the process, the doctor told him in the hospital, brains are a tricky thing as you know, it’ll come back to him when he’s ready.

That would mean anytime between today and never, Lu Yao thinks darkly.

Luckily for them both, Chusheng is on leave for the next week and no urgent cases have come in yet that Ah Dou cannot handle, so Lu Yao resolves to jog Chusheng’s memory gently throughout the week.

And so he tries. Lu Yao makes all of Chusheng’s favourite dishes, hoping that the taste will be familiar to him, but his hopes continue to fall flat after a week. When the both of them are seated in the living room reading, Lu Yao occasionally forgets that this isn’t the Chusheng that loves him, and when he makes a joke after reading something interesting in the news, expecting Chusheng to laugh with him or tease him, Lu Yao looks up when it’s met with a simple noise of assent, only to see Chusheng engrossed in his own reading.

When Chusheng gets back to work, Lu Yao is about to tear his hair out in frustration, and Chusheng can’t even bear to look at him for fear of seeing disappointment and hurt in Lu Yao’s eyes.

Lu Yao thanks the heavens when a case lands at their feet two days later, eager to have something to do, and maybe when Chusheng works with him, he’ll actually remember something.

As expected, when Lu Yao goes off solving the case with clever deductions, Chusheng seems awed and impressed. His nod of approval at Lu Yao’s skill almost reminds him of his Chusheng.

Almost.

As Ah Dou and Salim take the murderer on their latest case away, Lu Yao stretches to get rid of the tensed muscles in his neck and back from running around two days without rest.

“Shall we go get some dumplings? I’m so hungry-“ he begins, only to see Chusheng already walking ahead of him.

“… hmm?” the man asks when he’s halfway across the courtyard of the murderer’s house, “Ah. You can go ahead, I’ll go back with Salim and Ah Dou.”

He leaves him there and Lu Yao wants to call for him, but all he can do is watch as Chusheng leaves with the rest, reeling from the fact that Chusheng just-

-left him here, without even a second glance.

Chusheng has never left him to eat on his own before, especially after a successful case.

At that moment, Lu Yao thinks this is what it feels like, perhaps.

Heartbreak. Rejection. Disappointment.

It takes losing Chusheng to realize how much he took Chusheng’s love and concern for granted. Is this retribution and karma for not being nicer to Chusheng before, he wonders.

Since they met, it was always Chusheng who was turning up at his door to badger him, showering him with attention and gifts, being at his side constantly, quietly protecting him and asking for nothing in return.

It hurts, and fucking hell it hurts like nothing else he’s felt in this world before, but Lu Yao supposes it’s time for him to give back.

So Lu Yao picks himself up again, brushing the incident off. Wherever Chusheng is, that’s where he will be, even if it means forgoing tea.

===

“Well, now you know how good Chusheng-ge was to you,” Youning laments a week later, but she’s careful not to rub salt into Lu Yao’s wound.

She knows how much Lu Yao is doing for her brother, doing everything that Chusheng would have done for Lu Yao before - waiting for him to go home from work, bringing him an umbrella if it’s raining even if they’re not working at the station at the same time, bringing him the food he likes for supper.

Lu Yao is trying so hard, and she knows it. That’s not to say that Lu Yao ignored Chusheng’s efforts before the whole amnesia thing, but Lu Yao was always the one pampered and taken care of by Chusheng like this, endlessly spoilt by her lovesick fool of a brother who wanted nothing more than to lay the world at Lu Yao’s feet.

Seeing Lu Yao this exhausted and upset hurts her too.

She saw the way Lu Yao flinched when he offered Chusheng to help treat a cut on his back a few days ago, only for her brother to chuckle awkwardly before pulling up his shirt, telling them that he could do it himself.

The light in Lu Yao’s eyes is dimming with every passing day, and she’s afraid that at some point, he’s going to give up.

It has been three long weeks that undoubtedly feels much longer for Lu Yao.

Everytime she tries to broach the subject with Chusheng-ge, however, the man shoots her a warning look, and it’s the look he usually gives her when he’s really irritated, telling her to back off. Met with his rejection on this front, there’s nothing much Youning can do for them.

“Sleep here tonight,” Youning pats at Lu Yao’s hand, then squeezing it in support, pouring all her love for him and Chusheng-ge into her touch. “Take a break, you’ve been taking care of him for so many weeks.”

Lu Yao heads upstairs obediently and gets under the covers after a shower.

Youning knows he does not sleep.

===

A few weeks later, Lu Yao finds that he and Chusheng are finally at a comfortable equilibrium, living as roommates with each other rather than as lovers. Chusheng is finally starting to get used to Lu Yao’s quirks, and when Lu Yao whines that he’s hungry these days, Chusheng laughs, sounding a little more like himself, and brings Lu Yao to go eat.

“You’re going to end up eating yourself to death,” sighs Chusheng with a shake of his head, but he makes a right turn anyway, heading to the restaurant Lu Yao named earlier.

It gives him hope. If Chusheng cannot remember him, then Lu Yao just has to make him fall in love with him again.

Lu Yao makes sure to bring Chusheng to all the places they frequented together — the bar, the restaurants, the casino and even previous crime scene locations.

He even brings Chusheng to the couple’s restaurant where Chusheng gifted him with the watch, and Lu Yao regrets the way he reacted that night, because seeing Chusheng’s discomfort feels like a sucker punch to the gut now that their positions are reversed.

It’s been two months, and Chusheng hasn’t called him ‘San Tu’ or ‘Yao Yao’ even once.

The nights are the worst, because more often than not these days, Lu Yao wonders when he should give up. When is he going to see the sign that tells him that all he’s doing is futile and that he shouldn’t be wasting any more of Chusheng’s time?

After all, if Chusheng didn’t fall in love with him then, maybe he would be married by now, with children even.

===

It all comes to a head a few days later, at Bai Le Men.

Lu Yao was investigating another lead with Youning on the outskirts of the city, and when they return, Salim tells them that Ah Dou and Inspector Qiao went to Bai Le Men to talk to a possible source there.

He doesn’t have a good feeling about it, but heads over anyway with Youning in tow.

When they turn up, the first thing Lu Yao sees is Chusheng flirting with a woman near the dance floor, and his entire body flushes cold, his eyes going wide as they zoom in on his boyfriend.

Lu Yao watches with rapt fascination almost, because that’s a smile he hasn’t seen in months. It’s a smile that Chusheng directed exclusively at him after they got together, a smile that only Lu Yao is privy to.

The finger where his ring used to sit at is empty.

Seeing him flirt with another woman, a woman that is just his type before he fell for Lu Yao, Lu Yao cannot breathe. Before he does something he might regret, Lu Yao spins on his heels quickly and leaves Bai Le Men.

“San Tu, San Tu!”

Youning is calling for him, but Lu Yao doesn’t stop walking. At some point, he breaks into a run, wanting to get away from the club and put as much distance between himself and Chusheng as possible. There’s a ringing in his ears and all he can hear is the sound of his heartbeat.

He doesn’t even register getting home and locking himself in the bathroom until he’s sobbing, for the first time in weeks, seated on the floor against the door with his knees drawn up to his chest. He griefs for himself, for losing Chusheng for real, because this has to be it.

It’s devastating, realizing that he will never, ever get Chusheng back. The ring on his fourth finger mocks him, a symbol of what he cannot have. In a sudden burst of anger, Lu Yao snatches the ring off and flings it out, uncaring of where it lands.

His sobs echo in the spacious bathroom, and he cries until he can’t breathe any more, until he has nothing left to give.

Exhausted, Lu Yao curls up on the floor.

I’ll move out tomorrow, he thinks.

---

Notes:

*ge - brother

*si-ge - fourth brother

*sao-zi - sister-in-law, i get the gender discourse and everything around this but it’s just a term to refer to the spouse of Chusheng who is Qiao Si-ye and shows that Liu Zi and everyone under Chusheng respects Lu Yao as his equal partner (cuz there’s no gender neutral term for that in this setting)

*baobei 宝贝- baby/darling

*xin shang ren 心上人 - lover, someone who lives in his heart, who he treasures

*Bai Le Men - the night club that Chusheng frequents

#my roommate is a detective #民国奇探 #chuyao #qiao chusheng #lu yao #mriad #mriad fic #two part fic!!#aint gonna draw this out for too long #amnesia au #angst?#but angst with happy ending on the next part

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soimafreaknow · 3 years

Text

part 2.

part 1.

(ao3)

Sometimes you still call Jodie. Just to catch up, see how she’s doing. You’re surprised when she tells you that she’s hunting with a group of girls and Donna. It sounds sort of kick ass. You ask if you can drop by one weekend, maybe when they have a hunt, and she tells you you’re invited any time, but she mentions this weekend might be a particularly good one. You didn’t expect Sam and Dean to be there the same weekend you were. You weren’t dressed in hunting clothes. You were in a summer dress and combat boots, hair wild and held back with a bandanna. The impala was parked in the drive and it took everything, everything, you had not to turn around and head back home.

Your wheels barely hit the driveway before the door swings open and your breath catches at the tall masculine figure standing there, but it’s not Sam. You pull to a stop behind the impala and sharp green eyes are watching you. “(Y/N),” Dean said from the doorway, and you see the look in his eyes, the knowing look that catches you it’s gaze and holds you steady. He’s orchestrated this. Or co-conspired. “Dean.” You smile as you shut the door to your yellow ‘64 mustang. Your mom had had one, once upon a time, and you had hunted for years before you finally found one just like it. She was your baby. “Good to see you. I didn’t know you were going to be in town.” “Jodie invited me. I wanted to see what they were doing. A whole group of bad ass women hunting evil shit? I had to see it. And I was a little jealous.” “Oh, don’t be jealous. You can come along anytime you want. Come here.” Jodie said from the door and you grinned, opening her arms for a hug. “Is this what the big deal was about? Nice car.” Claire said from behind Jodie, but you ignored her. “Jodie, it’s good to see you.” You say into her shoulder. She’s just a little bit taller than you, but you didn’t mind it. “You too. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, what with the way you just vanished.” “Vanished?” You asked, and Dean looked pointedly at you. “Well, you disappeared with little more than a note. We worried.” “Sam knew-” but you stop, because now Sam is standing in the door and it hits you, the way it had hit you at the bus stop. In my defense I have none… Why had you let him slip through your fingers? Why hadn’t you held on harder? Why hadn’t you just- Just let yourself get killed for a man who would never have put you first. That’s why. “Hey Sam.” You whisper, and his smile is tense, strained, awkward. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” He smiled, eyes lingering fondly on the combat boots. They were the ones he’d bought you, eons ago. In another sort of life. You couldn’t make yourself get rid of them. They were too comfortable. “You too. I like your hair.” It’s shorter than it was last time you saw him, with a slight wave to it that made you want to touch it. His hair had always been one of your favorite things. “Well, let’s not just stand out here. Come in. I’ve got food on the stove and the boys aren’t ruining it, so that’s nice.” Jodie smiled and stepped to clear the doorway. “Hey, I’m making killer burgers for dinner. You just wait.” Dean cut in and corralled you inside, leaving you no space to even consider an escape. Not that you would’ve. You weren’t a teenager anymore. You wouldn’t just run. Probably. - The tension through lunch was palpable. You and Sam were civil, but Dean obviously held some hostility. Talking with Jody and even Alex was easy, but Claire seemed to be holding a grudge as much as Dean was and talking with Sam felt so stilted. Neither of you had really wanted to break things off, but neither of you had been willing to change your lives to the degree necessary to incorporate the other. The more you saw Sam the more you wondered why you’d been so resistant. Dean’s usual enthusiasm cut the tension between the two of you as you poked fun at him and he said you were losing too much weight without the hunt to keep you in supply of junk food. Even Sam laughed along and when his hand had reached across the table to catch yours without even thinking about it you both let it happen for a few second before you realize that it wasn’t supposed to be happening. He pulled his hand back first and you kept your hands in your lap for the rest of lunch. His hand had been just as warm as you remembered it being. It still encompassed yours the way no one else’s could. Non-threatening, not even remotely possessive and it felt perfect. Calluses in all the same spots. The year apart hadn’t changed either of you much, but nothing was the same anymore. - You’re hugging Jodie goodbye before dinner is even served. Stephanie is texting you with a fake emergency at work (even though you don’t work with Stephanie) and you’re making excuses. When you’re taking your still-packed duffel bag back to the car Dean pretends to help you out, taking the strap from you and walking it out for you. You try to claim misogyny, but even Jody refuses to help you out. She raises an eyebrow like she knows exactly what Dean is up to. “Okay, what the fuck. You’re both obviously miserable, so what gives? I know that text was fake, so I want the truth.” You took the bag from Dean and threw it into the back seat. “I don’t have to answer that.” “I think I deserve some kind of explanation after you just left like that. Sam’s still hung up on it, and you obviously are too. What the hell?” “Drop it, Dean,” You said through gritted teeth. He wouldn’t like the answer, and you weren’t feeling up to lying. You would’ve loved to have stayed with Sam, but you just can’t live the full time hunter life anymore. A hunt here or there, sure, but you wanted a life, a real life, with friends who went to karaoke bars with you on the weekends and worked at thrift shops. You wanted to be normal, at least sometimes. You didn’t want to live every day wondering if the next hunt would be the one you died for. And then there was the stress. The stress of the hunt, of living on hustled pool and bad credit cards, Sam. The stress of wondering if Sam would come back was terrible. The fear of what might happen to him if you weren’t with him was too much in the long term. And you couldn’t go with him. Not anymore. You’d fought about it a lot in the end. Years without having any real fights only to suddenly feel like fighting was all you did. You feel the tears well and you turn away form Dean before he can see them. “No, I’m not gonna drop it. Whatever you think in that messed up head of yours, I care about you. Sam sure as hell cares about you. So why’d you run off?” “We broke up, Dean. I didn’t exactly want to keep living in the bunker.” “Nah, no, none of that bullshit.” He turned you to face him and you gritted your teeth, forcing your face to stay still, blank, impassive. “You could’ve moved out, sure, but you dropped out. No one’s heard from you in hunter circles since. You didn’t leave hunting for Sam. I know you. You’re more dedicated than that.” “I left hunting for me.” You said quietly, the tears stinging. “I left hunting because I was always going to and… Sam wouldn’t come with me.” You swallowed hard, feeling a single tear track down your face. “I begged him. He begged me. You think I wanted to leave him? Sam was one of the only good things in my life. But sometimes you just have to put yourself first.” You pulled out of his grip and got into the car while Dean was still gaping at you, processing what you’d said. “Wait, hold on.” He said as you were already pulling out. “Hey. I’m not done talking to you!” You were done talking him though. You pulled out and nearly hit Dean in the process, but he was smart enough to get out of the way when you looked determined. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You didn’t see Sam watch you go or hear Dean yell “Damn it!” As you disappeared down the road, leaving Jody’s place in the dust. - “So, spill. What the hell? You were so excited about this trip.” Stephanie said as she pushed a wine glass your way. “My ex showed up.” You sighed and she raised an eyebrow. “What ex? The ex. The one who you quit your last job to get away from?” “I didn’t quit to get away from him.” You sighed, taking a sip of your wine and letting it warm you up a little bit. “I was going to leave anyway. I just wanted him to come with me.” “And he wouldn’t.” She sighed, pouring herself a drink. “Touch break, babe. So your ex showed up at your friend’s place. Then what?” “I couldn’t deal with it. I’m still hung up on him. Of course I am, we were great right up until I wanted to talk about quitting.” “What were you doing that was so bad.” “Porn.” You said with a sad grin and she rolled her eyes. “I know it’s not porn. I’d know if you’d done porn.” You shrug. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re entitled to your secrets.” “And that’s why I love you.” You smiled and took another sip of wine. “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting them and I spent all afternoon with them.” “Them?” “His brother was there too.” “Fuck. That’s rough.” She added more wine to your glass and you laughed. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” “Is it working?” She asked without missing a beat and you shook your head. “It’s going to be hot by the time I finish drinking it.” “Drink it faster. Loosen your lips. You’re obviously upset about this guy, so spill.” “So… We met on the job…” - Later that night, while you’re still a little tipsy, you get a text from Sam. — Sam: Hey. Hope everything with work is going okay. Text if you need anything. Y/N: Thanks. It’s going alright. I’ll text. You won’t text. You haven’t texted him first once since the break up. You always reply, just so he doesn’t get scared that you’ve been killed, but you never text him first. Sam: I don’t know what Dean said to you, but I’m sorry. You looked really upset when you left. Y/N: We’ve never really seen eye to eye. It’s no big deal. Sam: Was it about us? You don’t respond for several minutes, trying to decide what to say. He knows you too well, and you know he does when he responds after ten minutes. Sam: I’m taking that as a yes. Sam: How much did you tell him? Y/N: Nothing he shouldn’t have already known. Sam: He’s kind of slow on the uptake. He seemed to think you’d dropped a bomb. Y/N: He thought I left hunting because we broke up. I told him it he had it the wrong way around. Sam: That might be my fault. I really didn’t clarify. Sam: I didn’t want to talk about it at first, and by the time I could we had already moved on. Y/N: It’s fine. You don’t owe him an explanation. Or me. Sam: I know. I just know how Dean can be and I don’t want you to think I put him up to it. Y/N: It’s like you think I don’t know you. You didn’t even know I was going to Jodie’s, did you? Sam: No, Dean just said he wanted to visit and we left. Y/N: They planned it. They had to have. Sam: I don’t think Jodie knew we were coming either. She seemed surprised to see us. Y/N: Well, that’s good. At least it was just your brother with ulterior motives. Incoming Call Sam Winchester Shit. “Shit.” You whisper, but you swipe and answer anyway. “Leave my brother alone you heart breaking-” “Dean!” Sam yelled on the other end of the line and you hear a squabble and the phone drops and bounces on the floor, or a table or some other hard surface. “Sam, you’re texting her. You’ve been moping over her for a year and now you’re texting her like a friggin’ teenage idiot.” “Dean!” You hear a body thud against the ground and then the phone scrapes across whatever surface it landed on as Sam picks it back up. “I’m sorry. Ignore him.” Sam said, panting for breath. “I’ve been doing it as long as I’ve known him.” You laugh, but you’re tense, nervous to be speaking to him again. That’s twice in twenty four hours that you’ve had to talk to the man you wished could be your everything. You hear Dean mutter something on the other end of the line, but the phone goes silent and for a second you think maybe he’s hung up, but the sound of a door closing and Sam sighing assures you that he hasn’t. The silence feels pressing, but neither of you want to speak. The things you could say and things you want to say don’t overlap very well. “This is awkward.” Sam finally said, breaking the tension, and you laughed. “That might be an understatement.” “Yeah. I know.” The familiar sound of Sam’s terrible bed frame squeaking against the floor told you that he’d taken a seat. He was probably hunched over and staring at the ground between his feet, one hand balled into a fist. You’d seen him get like that sometimes, when he wasn’t quite sure what to do. “You ran away yesterday.” He breaks the silence again. You feel bad putting that responsibility on him, but you were still a little foggy headed and very aware that your brain to mouth filter didn’t work as well when you were drunk. You weren’t that drunk. But still. “I wasn’t ready to see you guys. I wasn’t expecting it. I would’ve prepped. Done some mental gymnastics to convince myself that I could be normal. I wasn’t ready.” “Neither was I.” He sighed, and you can hear the tension in his body. You used to wrap yourself around him from behind, hug him and press your head to his shoulder blade. Rub his shoulders. The memory makes your hands ache for something to touch and you squeeze one of the couch cushions in your hand. “I’m sorry.” You said, and you were. The first time you’d seen him in a year and you’d just run off without warning or explanation. It would be hard not to take something like that personally. “I’m sorry. For everything. You know I would’ve gone with you, if I could.” “I know.” You whisper. “I knew you wouldn’t come even when I was asking. I just… I had to hear you say it. Or else I’d have held out.” “You still holding out?” You nod and lean back into the soft cushions of your couch. He can’t see you, and you know that, but words get stuck in your throat like too much honey, sluggish, and too sweet to be pleasant. “I think I’ll always be holding out. I can’t imagine… It’ll always be you. Even when you get killed by actual God, because I’m convinced that’s the only way you’re going out, it’s always just going to be you.” “I wish it wasn’t. For you.” It hurts to hear him say it, even though you know what he means. He cares about you enough that he wishes you could let him go, move on, find someone else. “Me too.” You wipe your eyes. When had you started crying? “I know you don’t want to, but if you ever did…” “I won’t come back.” You whispered. “It was killing me, Sam. It was killing me.” “I know.” “But if it hadn’t been. If I could’ve stayed. I would’ve.” “I know.” “I didn’t mean to break your heart, Sam.” “I know.” His voice cracks and you sniffle. “If you cry I promise I won’t tell Dean.” “Oh shut up.” He laughed, and you heard the thickness in his words. The way he was barely holding onto it. “I mean it. It’ll stay our secret.” “You’re keeping enough secrets for me already. I don’t think you need any more.” “Sure I do. I love keeping your secrets, Sam. I’d have kept your secrets for the rest of my life. ‘Til death do us part. “Careful. You’ll get my hopes up.” “I had a ring.” You told him. “Well. Two rings. One for each of us. I was going to do the whole corny proposal thing. Like, I was going to get down on one knee, but on the table so we’d still be relatively the same height and I could look you in the eye. I wasn’t going to propose while staring at your knees. You’re such a sasquatch.” “You’re drunk.” He said, like he’d just realized it, and you laughed. “Yeah. Kind of. Stephanie and I shared a bottle of wine. We didn’t exactly get plastered.” “Stephanie is…?” “My friend. I meant it when I said I was holding out.” “I didn’t mean for that to sound like that. It’s good you’re making friends. You’re too anti-social.” “Shots fired, Sam. I can be social when I want to be.” “So, rarely.” “Exactly.” “I just mean I’m glad you’re not isolated.” “Me too. I’d probably have gone back to you otherwise. I’d be dead.” “I would’ve done everything I could to stop that.” “Yeah. Up to and including getting yourself killed. I couldn’t let you do that.” He doesn’t respond for a minute. Then two. You wonder if he’s hung up and you just didn’t notice. “You could’ve stopped. If we’d have put our foot down, explained to Dean, and Cas, and everyone how it was affecting you… They wouldn’t have asked you to get yourself killed for a case.” You smile at his hope. So naive. You close your eyes to respond, to keep the tears from blocking your vision and making you panic. Your voice a soft hoarse whisper. “Yes they would’ve.” You swallowed back your fear, pain. “Not at first. But eventually there would’ve been a case that would’ve been worth it, and another, and another. There’s a reason you and Jodi are the only people with any connection to hunting that have my info. There’s always going to be a case, some case, that could use someone with my psychic abilities. And if you asked, I would go. That’s why I love you, you know. You never ask.” “I never will. Not unless it literally means the fate of the entire world.” “And I’d want to help with that anyway.” You smile sadly. “I go on small hunts in the area. Take care of what I can. I didn’t stop. I just… broke contact.” “Yeah. I kind of figured that one out. We went to catch a hunt somewhere in your area, and by the time we got there there was no trace of it. Everyone we talked to described someone who looked just like you coming to talk to them a day earlier.” You sighed. “And that’s the danger of hunting. But… I can’t just let a case go. Not when people are getting hurt and I can stop it.” “I know.” “You do know. You know me so well. Too well. I should be afraid.” “No, you shouldn’t. You know me too. We know each other. I’m always going to be safe to you.” “Yeah.” You craddled your phone gently against your face and imagined you were back in the bunker, curled up next to Sam. It was a fantasy that you didn’t indulge in often, but sometimes you let yourself think about it. “You were the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You know that, right?” “I thought that was 85% dark chocolate.” “Mmm, I was trying to make you feel good. But yeah, the chocolate comes first.” He laughed and it made your chest ache, like a fist reaching in and gripping your lungs. You missed his laugh. The moment passed, almost unacknowledged. You didn’t blame Sam. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d want to hear. “Maybe you should come and see me. Just the two of us.” “Maybe. We can revisit the idea when you’re sober.” “I’ll say no when I’m sober.” “So we can revisit the idea when you’re sober.” “You are a good man, Sam Winchester. A stupidly tall, very handsome, good man. I’m very obviously inviting you for a one night stand, and you’re taking the high road.” “That wasn’t obvious, actually.” His voice was taking on that avoidant-nervous quality that you knew meant he was flustered. You licked your lips at the memory. “In that case, we’re definitely revisiting the idea only once you’re sober.” “You’re no fun.” You say, but there’s no heat, only mirth. “You’re too drunk to consent.” “I’m fine. Probably.” “You’re not, but it’s cute that you think you are.” “You think I’m cute?” You giggle and you hear him laugh on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I do.” “Well, good.” You don’t talk after that. You just listen to him breath like a freak and he lets you. Maybe he’s listening to you too. You fall asleep on the couch with your cat curled up at your feet and wake up a few hours later, freezing in the night air. He’s still on the line. You close your eyes so you don’t see your finger tap the red button that will end your call. You don’t hear from him after that. Not for a long time.

#sam x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x reader #sam x you #sam winchester x you #my writing

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bnha-mcu-requests · 4 years

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A and B are both going to die. B comforts A by telling them they’ll see each other on the other side.

Before starting, I have to say that this has been a hard one to write. I was torn about who I should use in this prompt but I knew that I wanted to write it. I hope you enjoy it and that it pulls on the heartstrings.

Aizawa groaned as he crawled sluggishly back into the land of the living. He immediately regretted fighting so hard to wake up as pain sliced through his body like a hot knife, coming form everywhere and nowhere all at once.

He gasped sharply, lungs just barely inflating under the crushing pressure of - what was that? He forced his eyes open only to wish he hadn’t, coming face to face with a large concrete slab only a hair’s breath away from his nose. It seemed his legs hadn’t received the same mercy, he couldn’t feel below his left knee and for that he was grateful if the fireworks of agony coming from his right knee was anything to go off.

He hissed in another breath, wincing at the creaking of his ribs as the pressure on his sternum increased at the slight inflation. Unable to move his head more that a small tilt, he attempted to look around the small pocket of salvation he was trapped in. It was dark, too dark to see anything really, only the hazy grey outline of more rubble surrounding his prone form.

He strained his ears, trying to listen for any further explosions, and remaining still to see if there were any tell-tale vibrations from shock-waves. It would seem he was in luck, the battle was either over, or too far away to cause him any further immediate damage.

Shouta stiffened. What was that? The small pocket remained silent, it was just his mind playing tricks on hi- there it was again!

A small wheeze. Dread pooled in his stomach, an icy fear momentarily overpowering his pain as his heart began to race, roaring blood making it almost impossible to hear anything at all.

‘H-Hello?’ he rasped, fighting the urge to cough at his dry throat, knowing it would only increase the red hot pain he felt in his chest.

A broken groan was his only response followed by a pained whimper. It sounded young and distressingly familiar.

‘Screw conserving energy’ Shouta thought to himself, he needed to know who was down here with him.

His eyes lit up a comforting ruby, faintly illuminating the dark cave. They fell on the hunched figure half buried under what looked like a steel support pipe.

‘No…’ Aizawa managed, his quirk released, plunging them both back into darkness. He knew that hair, he knew that voice. ‘Midoriya! Kid! Hey, Kid!’ he had to pause for a second to catch his breath, constricted lungs making it hard to talk, let alone yell like he had been attempting.

A pained groan was his only response and for a second, Shouta allowed himself to feel grateful the boy was unconscious, Lord knows that Midoriya would freak out.

‘S-Sensei?’ a cracked - young, so very young - voice called out. Of course he wasn’t unconscious Shouta berated himself, the problem child did nothing by halves and that apparently included being in pain as well.

‘Hey Kid, are you okay? Can you move?’ Aizawa prayed for a miracle, maybe he had seen wrong, maybe the support pillar hadn’t been so flush to the boy’s midsection as it first appeared.

‘N-no. I cn’t feel my legs. Sensei? W-what’s g’ning on?’ the teen slurred. Aizawa tried to ignore the new pain that shot through his heart at the agony and fear that was laced through his voice, at least he was coherent and responsive, those were good signs.

‘I think we were caught in the rubble after the building collapsed, I can’t move either so we’ve just got to wait for the others to come and find us’ Shouta responded, trying his best to sound optimistic, a difficult feat considering the dire situation the two had found themselves in. Harsh, stuttered breaths were his only response and Aizawa craned his head, trying desperately to see the boy, wondering if he was also searching for his teacher in the thick blackout that surrounded them.

Suddenly needing to see the boy’s face, Shouta activated his quirk again, illuminating the wide eyed, scared face of his student who winced at the sudden light. The support beam creaked and seemed to sink further into the boy, eliciting a sharp, muffled yelp as Midoriya bit his tongue to quell the noise. Aizawa shut his quirk off immediately.

How could he be that stupid? Midoriya’s quirk enhanced his own body, it was probably the only thing stopping the beam from crushing the boy completely.

Guilt coiled around his already tight lungs, forcing the remaining air out in a cloud of remorse and regret with no small portion of self loathing. He was supposed to be the adult here. He was the pro-hero and look at him now, causing pain to the very person he was supposed to save. A sudden stab of pain from his knee shook him from his stupor and he focused back onto the situation at hand.

A small ‘Sensei?’ was warbled out into the silence, practically dripping with unease.

‘I’m here Midoriya.’ Aizawa responded, a hazy melancholy feeling settling in his crushed bones at the clear distress the teen was feeling.

The very atmosphere seemed relieved and Aizawa kicked himself again, he was trapped with a kid who was very clearly in a lot of pain and very scared, he couldn’t just check out like that.

He ignored the small vindictive voice that whispered he was in pain too.

‘A-are you okay?’ that tiny, evil train of thought was drowned in the onslaught of emotions that assaulted Aizawa following that question.

‘I can’t move and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a few broken ribs and a crushed leg’ he responded honestly, knowing that the boy wouldn’t be comforted by lies, he needed to know the seriousness of their situation. ‘What about you kid? How are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine.’ the answer was strained and clearly the antitheses of ‘fine’ but at the same time, Shouta couldn’t blame the kid for lying. Acknowledging how much pain he was in, might drive him over the edge into panic, and considering the potentially limited supply of oxygen they were currently sharing, that wouldn’t be good for either of them.

Silence once again permeated the cavity, almost as thick as the shadows choking the air.

Aizawa allowed himself to slip into a hazy head-space, aware enough that he could still hear Midoriya’s shallow gasps but far enough away that the pain was slightly dulled. He had no idea how long they had been down there or even, where they were. The lack of noise implied they were further into the rubble than preferred but how far, he couldn’t tell. To be frank, they were both lucky they had survived.

The blast had been sudden, and large, lighting up the sky in a brilliant flash before everything collapsed in on its self, burying the detonator and a few heroes with it. Judging by the fact that Midoriya was in civilian clothing, it looked like he was caught up in the blast. Aizawa’s heart ached for the boy, it was bad enough experiencing these things while on duty, but on a day off was just horrific.

Midoriya’s breath hitched and Aizawa snapped back into the real world, blanching at the sudden re-emergence of his pain.

‘Kid? You still with me?’ he called into the velveteen black that threatened to smother them both. His anxiety spiked when he got no response. ‘Kid?’ he called out a little louder, hoping, praying he would get a response.

‘S-sensei?’ a choked sob, Shouta’s heart clenched, a growing lump in the back of his throat promising anguish at the child’s mournful whimpers.

‘I’m here kid. I’m here. I need you to keep talking to me? You got that?’ Aizawa couldn’t give a reason for the desperation he felt in that moment, he could chalk it up to innate parental instinct in response to hearing such a desolate cry.

‘Okay’ the boy whispered, and Shouta could only listen to the stilted shuffles, betraying the teen’s halting movements. He was about to ask the boy what he was doing when Midoriya broke the silence himself.

‘Sensei?’ Shouta hummed to show he was listening, the sound coming out more breathless than he intended.

‘I lied.’ Shouta couldn’t help the surprised and somewhat confused grunt at the sudden confession.

‘What did you lie about, kid?’ he finally settled on, ignoring the niggling worry in the back of his skull, shifting slightly to try to avoid the sharp stones that were beginning to cut into his back.

‘I’m not fine.’ a sharp intake of breath was Shouta’s only reply. ‘I can’t feel my legs, I can’t breath. My ribs are crushed and I can feel something in my stomach.’ Shouta stubbornly blinked away the tears that had begun to accumulate.

‘Sensei…it hurts’ that simple admission, laden with tears and brutal honesty stole Aizawa’s breath, leaving him choked up and unable to respond.

‘I’m so tired, and I hurt so much!’ the boy was full on sobbing at this point, harsh wheezing accompanying mournful wails, the plaintive cries of an injured, scared child.

Aizawa wasn’t a parent, he had never wanted to be, but at that particular moment, he would have done anything to whisk the boy away to the safety of his apartment, wrap him in a blanket and promise that he would be okay. As it was, he tried to do the next best thing.

‘I know Midoriya. I know. I’m sorry but you need to stay awake. I’m sacred too and I need you to help me be brave’ he knew he was playing dirty, manipulating the boy’s unhealthy drive to do anything for someone who needed help. At this point though, Shouta didn’t care. If it kept the boy alive and fighting, then it would do for now. They could discuss it once they had been rescued.

As if on cue, a loud crumbling sound echoed through their cramped quarters and Aizawa took a deep breath, unsure if the influx of air was due to the relief he felt hearing voices, or if the pressure on his chest had been lightened some.

He turned his head in the direction he knew Midoriya was lying. ‘Hear that kid? They’re coming for us, we just need to let them know we’re here. Can you hold on for a bit longer?’ he heard a soft sob before a broken ‘yes’ wobbled into the air.

Unwilling to risk using up their precious oxygen supply, well aware that the shifting in the rubble could drastically decrease their already limited amount, he began to tap a rhythm into the metal sheet, the remains of a large sign, the sound echoing in their small pocket and hopefully, out into the rubble for the other heroes to hear as well.

Time passed, Shouta was unsure how much, the only sounds within their shared spaces was the continued, breathless conversations with Midoriya, each slightly more incoherent, and the repetitive clanging of fists on metal.

It was impossible to tell if the voices of the heroes above the rubble had gotten any louder or closer but the continued sounds of moving rubble and cries of relief whenever they found someone was a comfort to the pair. At least it was to Aizawa, the boy was so delirious it was hard to tell whether he had noticed the noise at all.

A small mumble sounded from the lump Shouta knew was Midoriya and he strained to hear what the boy was trying to say.

He almost wished he hadn’t.

‘S’nsei, m’gnna die.’ it was said without sadness or disbelief, as though Midoriya had accepted this to be the absolute truth.

‘No you won’t kid. You’ve just got to hang on a little longer’ Shouta almost spat the words out, needing them to reach the teen, pleading for him to not give up yet.

‘i d’nt wanna die. S’nsei. G’tta take care f’ma Mum’ Shouta didn’t think his heart could sink any lower. How had he forgotten? Midoriya’s mother was probably out there right now pleading, begging, desperate to know what had happened to her son.

‘You’re not going to die kid. We’re going to be saved, we’ll go to the hospital and get fixed up. You’ll see your Mum again and I’ll take you out to the Cat Coffee place I like and we can talk about what happens. After that, you can go back to working for the number one hero spot.’

‘S’nds nice’ the teen slurred and Shouta could almost picture the small smile that the boy likely wore.

They passed more time talking about what they would do once they were out, or rather, Shouta spoke and Midoriya mumbled out semi-audible repsonses.

All too soon, Aizawa began to feel light headed, sweat gathering on his brow as the pain began to creep further up his legs at a snails pace, leaving scorching trails behind it.

Silence once again swallowed the pocket before it was broken by Shouta’s hushed whisper, ‘if you die kid, it won’t be alone. I’ll wait for you on the other side’. Depsite the heavy words, the air seemed lighter, as though a stifling fear had been lifted.

‘Pr’mise?’ came the pained response, weaker now than it had ever been.

‘I promise’. Shouta risked the movement, stretching out the arm that wasn’t still tapping on the metal towards where he last remembered seeing the boy. His fingers came into contact with something soft and curly, Midoriya’s signature green mop of hair. He began running his fingers through the curls gently, all to aware of the tacky wetness that was caught in knots. He refrained from acknowledging what it was.

‘Sensei?’ boy spoke softly but with such clarity that Shouta paused in his ministrations.

‘Can you light up the room please? I’m scared of the dark’

Unable to deny the teen this one thing, he looked up towards the metal pillar and activated his quirk, giving the area a warm, crimson glow. He felt more than saw the kid relax and a content sigh shifted some dust, creating a mesmerising swirl in the dim light.

‘You know what Sensei?’ Shouta didn’t respond, he didn’t need to, Midoriya knew he was listening, ‘It doesn’t hurt any more’

The tears helped to moisten Shouta’s eyes, allowing him to keep them open for longer than usual, something he was both grateful for, and hated.

He kept the alcove lit for as long as he could, continuing the gentle strokes to messy hair. He carried on even as Midoriya stopped moving, head slowly cooling alongside the rest of his body.

He blinked when the cavern was suddenly lit with not the empty red of his eyes, but the bright white of the midday sun, senses assaulted with noise, colour and light. He hadn’t even heard them get close.

‘Midoriya… see, I told you they’d come soon’. The boy didn’t, couldn’t respond. Shouta allowed his eyes to shut, the last thing he saw was the distraught face of a single mother, her agonised scream following him into unconsciousness. Yet another promise he couldn’t keep.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #shoto aizawa #mr aizawa #death #major character injury #major character death #story prompt #prompt #bnha izuku #izuku midoriya #bnha fanfic #fanfic

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slothgiirl · 4 years

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shadowplay part 12

It's dark by the time you arrive at the little cabin which is incredibly skewed towards glamping. There's trees flocking every side, and little fairy lights scattered around the porch.

The sight is enough to make a romantic out of anyone.

Miles wastes no time, running in, Zack on his heels, to throw himself into the first bedroom he likes, "I call the master!"

"Like hell your getting it," Zack yells, tackling Miles.

"Should we tell them they're sharing a room," Breana asks, pouting as she takes a selfie in front of the doorway, tilting her head just right.

Matt snorts, placing an arm around his girlfriend, and throwing the laziest peace sign up in her photos, "Let them have their fun." He smiles down at Breana with a fondness that speaks of years and years of being together.

"I'm guessing you already know which room you want," you ask Breana whose clearly in charge here which doesn't surprise you at all. Alex doesn't own any pans at his flat and you highly doubt that Miles is any better. There's some hope that Zack isn't completely useless on his own, but then again, he's a single man in the music business. It's not a overly large hope.

You knew enough rich men from work to know that they're usually helpless even if they're helpless in 10,000 pound suits.

It evened out.

"No," Breana says sweetly, having only eyes for Matt. "You take whichever room you want."

"I don't really care," you reply taking in the tastefully decorated living room. You run your hand over the sofa, noting the acrylic fabric, not yet matted down. Probably some Ikea adjacent sofa. It no longer cost an arm and a leg to have nice things, though the vintage technique would undoubtedly last longer. You'd been to many country estates, on last minitue alterations to know that. Hundred year old linens still in perfect forms.

Estate sales were your best friend.

"Well if you're sure," Breana replies, leveling her gaze with yours, "I'll take-," "We'll," Matts corrects.

"We'll," Breana smiles, looking at Matt with the biggest smile on her face, "take the room with the patio."

"For the gram," you grin.

"Gotta keep up with the algorithm." She'd already told you about her clothing brand, which was just another line of basics that you didn't really think anyone needed. Uniqlo was enough. And she'd shown you her instagram which was exactly what you imagined it too be, bright light californian influencer aesthetic, clearly influenced by minimalism which photographed very well.

"Does that mean I should post more often than every couple of months," you tease, meeting Alex's heavy gaze, as he leans against a wall, boots still on. You could never wear shoes indoor, but you suppose it isn't your place so it doesn't matter. Your floral embroidered bag in his hand, along with his own bags.

"Yes! We should work on your instagram while we're here," Breana offers, "there's so many cute pictures we could take."

Matt chuckles, "later."

"Later," she repeats, all heart eyed.

You tilt your head, watching them. She was easily out of his league. And yet, here she was, actually in love with Matt, who you still couldn't puzzle out. If she was your girlfriend, you'd have pulled over at all her cute and dumb points of interest along the road. It was a road trip after all. A road trip with his girlfriend and friends, not just the lads.

Alex tilts his head, motioning down the hallway. You can here Zack and Miles in some room fighting over what song to blast through the speakers, Miles upselling the virtues of some obscure 70s band.

You follow Alex, half walking, half sliding along the wooden floor, artificial pine smell still in the air from when it had last been cleaned. The yeezy socks had been a gag gift from Sam for last christmas. "Isn't Arielle's wedding next month," you ask Alex, still thinking of the strung up fairy lights.

"Why," he asks, opening the closed room.

You switch the lights on, taking a second to play with the sliding switch. Definitely something you wanted when you finally bought a house. You'd finally made the appointment with a realtor for the week that you returned. You'd dragged your feet long enough. A thirty minute commute to work wasn't bad if you got a little garden out of it. A place to drink tea.

"I was just thinking that she'd for sure have fairy lights. A pinterest wedding," you bit your lips, "you think pinterest sponsers influencers."

"How'd you figure she'd an influencer," Alex asks instead, putting the bags down and finally kicking his boots off as he sits down on the bed.

You close the door, locking it for once because you didn't fancy Miles bursting in if you wanted to change. He was definitely shameless enough to not care, acting without thinking, without meaning any harm. "She had that effort effortless look," you shrug, "its basically a job to look that effortless."

Alex laughs, " 's true. But I don't really want to talk about her."

"Sorry."

"No," he says, leaning back on his hands, watching as you change into a pajama set. You'd have blushed if you hadn't changed in front of him loads of times before. Your mothers solution to body image issues, being a therapist and all, was to make you stand in front a a mirror and repeat 'I'm beautiful' before going to school every day. It had been stupid then, but clearly had worked. You didn't even mind the belly rolls you got when leaning over to pull your shorts on. "I just don't want to bother with the past anymore."

You nod, smiling over at him, "good to hear you move on."

Alex smiles back, red creeping up his cheeks. "I 'fink I've moved on a while ago actually. . .just crept up on me."

"That’s good," you tell him, looking down at the floor, wood like the rest of the cabin which was closer to a chateau. Rich people honestly. You try to shove down the hope ballooning in your chest at his words, as if you'd have any chance. His friends are here. And-you stop your train of thoughts right there, unwilling to go further like a coward. "Guess you can go out and be a proper rock star instead of being a sap at my flat."

"Oh," Alex grins with a smirk that's so fitting with his sleeked back hair and the 50s greaser aesthetic he was so fond of, "Don't lie, you like having me over."

"I like getting free take out," you counter with a grin of your own, laying down on the bed next to him. "And you do have great taste in music, but don't let it go to your head."

"Too late. My ego's the size of the hollywood sign."

You laugh, looking up at him. You really were glad you'd decided to come. "Is your horde of gel the mountain the signs on?"

"Never can win with you can I," Alex smiles, looking down at you, his eyes twinkling in the soft light, dark like a glass of top shelf scotch. Your heart fluttered in your chest, you couldn't maintain eye contact when he looked at you like that, your thoughts surging wildly, sending your pulse racing. It had been happening a lot more lately.

You liked him.

Too much.

You couldn't help it. It was Alex. He was easy to like, easy to let into your life until you couldn't imagine your life without him there, smiling like a dork despite trying to look like John Travolta in Grease, carting a record player to your flat because music just wasn't the same without the scratches in old vinyl records. "Your words not mine." You swallow thickly.

Alex strokes the side of your face gently, his touch setting your skin aflame, leaving you breathless. There's-there's no excuse. No friends to pretend for. No movie playing to cut the tension. You want desperately to pull away before your feelings are crushed. But you can't his gaze resting so earnestly on you, pinning you to the bed.

"Can we talk," he finally utters, in that serious stilted way, as if Alex can only approach words from the side, never head on, never as comfortable as he was in writing.

"Sure."

A knock on the door.

Loud.

Harsh.

Jolts you out of whatever trance you'd been in, letting you release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, letting you look away from Alex. Zacks voice calls out from the hall, "we're going to order food!"

You force your voice to stay stead, unwilling to betray the rush of emotions coursing through you, blood rushing in your veins. Chest full of butterflies as you answer, "don't tease me like that Zack, just let me know when the foods here." You should've used this as an out. But-it's Alex. That's the whole problem. You care for him, as a friend, as more.

You'd never just leave him because you're feeling like being a coward.

"Okay," Zack laughs, "just don't blame me if you hate everything we order."

"I'm sure the spiciest thing you've ever had was salt and pepper," you call back.

You listen to his steps disappear down the hall, eyes trained on the door. Heart beating like a sewing machine making it's way down the line of an inseam. You can't think, all flustered like this.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to Alex.

He takes your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks, his touch hot on your skin, his entire body leaning towards you the way sunflowers turn to face the sun, soaking in their rays. You're breathless.

There's no wavier in his voice as Alex says, "I really like you. I think I might actually be in love with ya if I'm being honest. But right now, I just really wanna fuck you."

Cheeks burning red, you can't-your voice stops working. Brain short circuiting as you look at Alex. Desire pooling in your belly. You're a horny uni student all over again. Not trusting yourself to speak. His body hovering above yours, caging you against the bed. You want nothing more than to reach out and bring him flush against your body.

You don't trust yourself to speak.

When you don't respond, Alex, jaw clenching, adds, "if ya don't feel the same way just tell me tah fuck right off. But I can't-I can't lie next to yah and pretend it don't mean a thing to me."

"What a coincidence," you finally manage, smiling softly up at him, so close you could just reach up and kiss him, "I like you a lot as well." It's in the top ten dumbest things you've ever said in your life. And the most english thing, to keep a stiff upper lip when you're literally laying under the man you haven't been able to stop thinking about.

"That's good," Alex notes, raising a brow. The little eager school boyish expression on his face making you giggle.

He shuts you up promptly, smothering your laugh with a deep kiss, so unlike all the other times he's kissed you. None of the hovering and hesitance, none of the stiffness in your body, as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing his body against yours, savoring the feel of him. His toned muscles shifting as he shifts against you.

It's hot and heavy, with a bruising intensity as Alex kisses you. You match him with the same passion, with all the pent up months of tension, of finally getting to show him how much you like him, how you've been thinking of him for weeks now. There's still sugar on his lips from the bubble tea you'd made him try, his tongue exploring your mouth as you moan into the kiss, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Alex's chest against yours.

His hand winding its way into your hair, keeping it out of your face as you kiss him. As you loose yourself in Alex. The entire world shrinking until it's just the two of you. And nothing else matters. His other hand running down your side. Fingertips brushing over the exposed skin above the waistband of your shorts, before shoving the fabric aside, his hand griping your side.

You kiss his lips, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, leaving you both gasping for air. Eyes glazed over, raging wildly with want.

"I'm gonna fuck you love," Alex, whispers planting kisses down your neck, his fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt. "Show ya how crazy you've been driving me."

You nod, shakily, your gaze never leaving his, as your shirt falls back onto your shoulders, falls open.

Sam had been spot on, making you pack the nice parisian undergarments that had been at the back of your drawer abandoned. You'll have to buy her something really nice before you get back to the old smoke.

Alex pulls his own shirt off.

He shakes his head, smirking, "but you've got to say it love. Can't be the only one baring my soul here."

"You're baring more than your soul Alex," you tease, despite the hitch in your voice, revealing just how worked up you were feeling. But you indulge him, because you really want him. Your skin burning in anticipation of what comes next. "But right now I'm more interested in you fucking me."

Alex laughs, but there's no hiding the hoarseness in his voice.

Then sits up on his legs, trailing kisses down your chest, down you belly as he works your shorts down your legs, you tilting your hips up so he can leave you bare, taking your nice lingere along with the shorts. It was a shame too. They really were nice, lacy and racy, worth the trouble of wearing.

Your toes curl as Alex kisses the crook of your leg, your breath hitching as he prices open your legs, an easy move when you were all too willing to let him go down on you.

Alex presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his hand grasping the skin, all the while his other hand, his fingers brushed over your clit, dipping into your folds, into the wetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a whimper escaping from your lips. "I wanna hear you love," Alex whispers against your skin, mouth moving teasingly close to your center. "Let me hear you."

You can't stifle the cry as he runs his tongue through your folds, maddeningly slow, before sucking on your clit long enough for your brain to short circuit. He doesn't let up, flicking his tongue against you, your breathe short as you whimper at his ministrations. His fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at the covers, bunching them up in your palms.

Alex sucks at your clit, his hand brushing against your folds, before slipping a finger into your core, curling inside you.

You're on fire, skin hot. Eyes squeezed shut as you're overwhelmed with sensations, Alex's mouth against your center, breath tickling the skin, driving you crazier. The same mouth you'd kissed only moments ago.

He adds another finger, pumping his hand against your core, eliciting more whimpers and moans from your lips. The wetness in your core growing. The heat in your lower belly growing.

You can't take it. "Alex," you whimper. Bitting your lower lip. There's no way you'll last longer than a couple of seconds. All edged out.

"Come for me," he utters, as choked up as you feel, his fingers buried inside you as he shifts, pressing his lips against your collar bone, nipping the the skin. You let go, coming against his hand, and the feel of his skin against yours.

You're consumed by bliss. Left gasping for breath.

Boneless as Alex gets up, unbuttoning his tight dark jeans, but not before rifling through his wallet for a condom.

You can't be bothered to pay him much attention.

Knocks ring out against the door, loud and insistent. Knocks like light taps that don't stop, a fly in your ear.

Miles.

And sure enough, "foods here! Al and Als much better looking bird," he jokes stretching bird as long as the sounds will let him.

You prop yourself up on an elbow, wreaking your brain for a response as Alex freezes, clad in a pair of boxers, condom in hand. Utterly useless.

"Matt won't leave us any if we dally," Miles adds, laughter clear in his tone.

"Actually," you try, not sounding nearly as disheveled as you feel, as you are, "I think the jet lags caught up to me."

"Oh is it like that is it," Miles calls back, voice full of glee, "well let me know if yah need me. Three is a part-eh after all," he crackles.

You let out a breath in relief, glad to be left alone. Again.

Really you should've just stayed in LA. Or London.

You could've done this in either place, uninterrupted.

"Just focus on me love," Alex cuts in, make short work of getting your shirt the rest of the way off, kissing the corner of your mouth, knowing how easily you could get lost in your thoughts, like him.

All the easier to understand him.

He unhooks your bra, hands massaging your tits, the brush of his fingers hardening the peaks of your breasts, as he pressed his lips hard against yours. You eagerly kissed him back, softer than before, still ridiculously satisfied from before, your hands loose as they curled around his neck, letting him shift you both, letting him settle his weight between your legs, finally full naked. His hips hard against yours.

Your lips eager against his mouth, already yearning for another taste of him. Alex's hand threading through your hair, as he shifts, finding your core with his hard cock, entering you in one swift thrust.

You cry out into his mouth, you hand gripping his back. Your fingers finding their way into his hair. Soft despite the amount of product. Had to be expensive.

You hold him against you, loving finally having him the way you've refused to admit to yourself that you wanted. You've been wanting Alex for weeks now. All the parts of of. The man who got pissed drunk at a pub, the man who'd bring you take out and fold your blankets, the man who kissed you.

He breaks the kiss, nuzzling his lips against the crook of your neck, inbetween moans, your name on his tongue, as he thrusts deeply into you, filling you up to the brim, as you clench around him. "Yah feel so good love," he groans, heady with passion.

Alex's pace relentless, all pent up want, the frustration of spending nights curled up with you on settees and beds, never being able to do more than look.

He fucks you, his teeth nipping the delicate skin at the base of your throat.

You gasp for breath, moaning his name like a prayer on your lips, wondering how the bloody hell you had ended up here. How lucky you were to have ended up here.

His hips against yours, his body flush against your's as his thrusts become erratic.

Your fingers digging into the skin of his back, as he comes against you. You’re exhausted. Spent. A day traveling by plane. A drive that lasted the entire day, and now this. You-you're not sure where this leaves you, where you go from here. This isn't exactly a standard way of-this isn't friends to more or strangers hitting it off, but you don't care. You'll figure it out, along with Alex.

Alex who slumps over on his side, lying next to you, looking completely fucked.

"I ruined your hair," you smile, completely out of it yourself, unable to summon any bite.

Alex laughs, unabashedly, his entire demeanor taking on a boyish air, "for once I don't give a damn."

"Are you going to go get food," you ask, rolling over so you can rest your head on his chest.

"Don't particularly want to move. Debating getting up for a smoke though."

"Cool," you reply, letting your lids slid shut, "I'm going to go to sleep then."

"I take it ya not hungry," Alex smirks.

"There's always Mcdonald's. At 3 am."

#Shadowplay #Alex Turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #smut

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teaandatale · 4 years

Note

forgotten first meeting and either space au or roommate au for steggy?

57. forgotten first meeting & 22. Space AU or 12. Roommate AU

Well… How about all three???

Sorry this took so long! Given my last two, I wanted to makesure this one was a decent ficlet length, and I realized I’ve had a sci-fi/spacedrought in the last year so it took a bit to get myself into the zone. This ismore of a collection of scenes, but I hope it gives you the gist of this ficmash up! Um… It’s quite long for a meme thing… So there’s a cut.

He’s not sure what he had exactly expected out of the Servicewhen he first joined up, but Steve sure hadn’t been expected to be halfway tothe outer belt aboard the most protected, secretive ship in the known galaxy, the U.S.S. SHIELD. He hadn’t expected an Earther like him would be tapped for a highly classified secret mission with the SSR. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was working his standard circuit between Earth, Moon Colony II & Mars Colony, patrolling for the usual contraband when the call came. A prepped mission just lost one of their crew members, and he was requested at behalf of the Service’s highly elite trained SSR squad to report for duty. Steve made his last stop, brought his second-in-command and best friend Bucky up to speed, and boarded the first transport ship out towards the Service base on Ganymede.

He also sure as hell hadn’t expected to be paired up with the woman that he had been half in love when they were just recruits nine years ago.

Peggy Carter hasn’t changed much in his eyes, at least not in her stature and attitude. Her hair was longer than it had been back then, worn loose unlike the pulled back regulations of recruit days. But those eyes, the quirk of her brow and the perfect red lips, he remembered them just like yesterday, when his breath hitched and he never quite recovered it.

The moment he locked eyes with her, he gets a giddy feeling in his stomach, both excitement and something like nostalgia.

“Agent Peggy Carter, Agent Steve Rogers, welcome aboard,” CommanderPhillips, an old familiar face, greeted them on the Command Deck. “You’ll be getting to know each other very well over the course of this mission, but we’ll start with the high-level objectives and schematics.”

There doesn’t seem to be any recognition in Peggy’s eyes, and she quickly turns away to focus on Phillips.

“The target of course is Hydra, as you’ve both crossed paths with them in the System.”

He tries not to dwell on it as Phillips pulls up the relevant mission documents. They’re joined by Howard Stark who Peggy does seem to recognize.

An hour later, preliminary brief under way, they are giving initial prep assignments aboard the ship.

“I look forward to working with you Agent Rogers,” Peggy says without any ounce of familiarity as she sticks her hand out to him. He tries not to take it personally, after all, why would she remember him from that night they properly met all those years ago.

Steve swallows his disappointment and shakes her hand back. “I look forward to it also, Agent Carter.”

“Now if someone could point me to my quarters, it’s been a long journey here,” she says.

Howard taps several times on his command screen then clicks his tongue. “We’re running a full crew right now given the situation. The mission team was paired in the same bunk room before you two got assigned to this in their stead. Looks like you’ll have to make due with bunking together. It’s at least private quarters, unlike all the juniors manning Comm stations. They’restill in the general barrack bunks.” He shrugs. “Good time as any to get toknow each other real well before you two go off on your own.”

He notices Peggy make a face for a moment, but she doesn’t comment. Bunking with a girl. Bunking with Peggy. Maybe he should offer to take a spot in the bunks.

“Fine,” she responds in a clipped tone. “Now if you please Howard, point us to our quarters.”

The quarters are small, as to be expected, though he supposes he’d been a bit spoiled having decent quarters on his usual circuit ship. The two bunks are built into opposite walls, with a small workstation under each. The privacy away from the crowded bunkrooms was a privilege. And Stark was right. He and Peggy were really going to need to get to know each other if they were going to make the covert mission work.

“Do you have a preference?” he asks her of the bunks.

“I’ll take the right wall if you don’t mind.”

He nods. “Of course,” he replies and they both get to work unpacking their personal effects in silence.

Steve contemplated saying something to break the silence, but he wasn’t sure if that would be more awkward than just saying nothing. He’d shared bunkrooms with women before, but he’d never shared private quarters withone, and definitely not one he had a crush on.

He decides not to make the situation anymore awkward for Peggy, who he is sure is not thrilled about sharing with him, and decides to give her as much privacy as one can in a tiny space.

“I apologize if I’m a bit short,” he hears from across the room. He turns and sees Peggy holding her blanket. “It’s been a long and wild journey here for me, so I’m on hour 34 without sleep.”

“You’re kidding!”

She shrugs. “Duty calls, but we hit an uncharted asteroid field which had been a pleasure to map out until we discovered it was one of the forgotten mine fields from the War.”

He’s impressed. Not surprised. But still… Impressed. “Wow,” ends up as his response.

“I just mean that the last few days have been particularly stressful.”

“Of course,” he agrees quickly. “That is one hell of a voyage to manage on a good day. Well you should probably get some shut-eye while you can. I was gonna scope the ship out. I can bring some food back in a couple of hours.”

He’s rewarded with a sleepy smile from her, and he can feel his heart thump against his ribcage. “That would be lovely. Perhaps some coffee if you can find it?”

He smiles back. “You got it.”

That first night, alone in their quarters together is awkward, even though Peggy seemed to warm to him when he had delivered on his promise of coffee and food. She asked him about his work on the patrol route, and he gets to hear about the more lengthy intense covert ops that had led her to stints on pretty much every occupied planet and various lunar colonies. He asks her a lot of questions about undercover work, having only done a few of his, and mostly out of necessity than direct order from above. He keeps waiting for an organic moment where their shared past will come up, but it doesn’t. They have a stilted conversation about turning the lights off, and then in the darkness, hyper aware that she is only several feet away, Steve can’t sleep. He stares up blankly, listening to the sounds of Peggy tossing and turning to get comfortable. He wonders if she slept well during her nap, or if like him, found that so much space travel made his brain so dizzy it wouldn’t easily relax.

He thinks about Bucky, and considers sending him a message just to check up on him. He thinks about how he spent the long voyage her missing his mother. It had been a long time since he had so many uninterrupted hours to just think. He misses her every day, but he had missed her so intensely the farther he got away from Earth, in a way he hadn’t felt since her funeral.

The morning alarm comes to early, but he’s out of bed and doing his usual routine or stretches and warm-up before he remembers that he has a roommate. He had so easily pulled off his t-shirt as he normally would have for exercise, but he feels so suddenly naked without it.

A sleepy Peggy Carter is a sight to behold, her features so soft. But even sleepy, her eyes roam his chest and he flushes. He grabs for the shirt on the floor and pulls it on, not daring to look in Peggy’s direction until he’s done his pull-ups. She joins in his stretches, and when she lifts her arms high up, he has to look away from her as a sliver of skin at her stomach becomes visible, before he says or does something embarrassing.

It’s been a long time since he’d been on a long voyage like this. He was used to his shorter cycles, never in the same place for more than a week, not going longer than three or four days without a docking. They’re still a while out before their passenger ship is outfitted and ready to go. It gives them plenty of time to strategize and to catch the other up on their knowledge and run-ins with Hydra.

They spend most of their days together. Compiling notes on known Hydra assets. Visiting Stark to confer about the specs needed for their mission. They run flight simulations together, Peggy as the lead pilot, the role she will be taking, and Steve as both navigator and lead engineer. They work on their cover, and keep up physical exercise, and weapons training, all together. By the end of their third week in transit, they’ve developed a genuinefriendship. Steve still listens carefully every night as she gets comfortablein her bed, listening for the sound of her breathing evening out before hefalls to sleep.

Two weeks after the success of their first covert trip, the test run Stark insisted upon before they flew off toward the Outer Belt alone, as goes to hell onboard the U.S.S SHIELD. They backtracked to Jupiter as the upheaval at Mars Colony played out. Phillips was apparently concerned about the powers at play, and was called back in the event a true skirmish arose. Which was perfect time for their main comm system to go down. As the Command Deck scrambled to boot up secondary and tertiary systems without compromising their position, Steve jumped below deck with Stark to try to recover the main system.

“Steve? Any progress?” he hears Peggy ask on their local two-way.

“Slow going Peggy,” he says with a sigh.

He hears her sigh too. “It’s not looking good. Phillips’ is navigating blind and the Mars situation seems to be getting worse.”

“Riots?”

She hums. “We’re picking up gun ships on the long-range. No accurate reading though with the system so intermittent.”

“Shit.”

He and Stark exchange a look. They have Peggy confirm output levels as they work, hearing as the situation gets more and more tense, with a three-gunship fleet sent out ahead to make better assessment. She gives them updates as she assists the crew upstairs. The repair takes hours, but they get it done.

“Peg we got it! Should be live any second!” He doesn’t wait for her response before rushing back over to her.

There’s a cacophony of noise on the Command Deck when Stevefirst reaches it, followed up a sudden eerie silence as the newsfeeds come back up, and the screens report the live images. He gasps along with the rest of them with the fiery images of ships under fire. The distress calls of one ofthe fleet’s gunships comes too late. He feels Peggy’s hand on his arm, but hecan’t even focus on it when he sees another disturbing image. A patrol ship, with an emblem of a star encased in concentric circles. Destroyed. His patrol ship. Bucky. Destroyed. The Honorary First Avenger patrol ship destroyed as it made a play to intercept fire at civilian passenger ship bound for Earth. Bucky…

“Steve.”

He doesn’t recognize that he’s the one hyperventilating until she calls his name. He looks at Peggy but sees nothing. Her hand is still onhis arm.

“Steve.”

“That’s my…” He can’t breathe. He wants to scream. “Bucky.”

The look she gives him is too painful to look at.

“No! No!”

Something squeezes his arm. “Steve, please! Please. Stay with me here. Breathe please. Please.”

He tries to follow her breaths, but between the chaos in his head and the tears streaming across his face, he can’t be here. He should have been there. It should have been him not Bucky. He pulls away and runs. He runs all the back to their quarters. He starts to scream into the void of the empty room, pounding his fist into the wall. He’s never so wished he had private quarters until this very moment. How can he have a breakdown and scream and cry and mourn and hate when he has to share a room with someone? How is he supposed to keep this all in check? How is his best friend dead?

Steve’s lost track of everything. Time. Space. His own body. Everything hurts so much that at this point his muscles feel numb. He jumps when the door opens. Peggy looks at him mournfully. He wipes his hand roughly across his face, clenches his jaw and wills himself not to show further emotion. She comes and sits down next to him on the floor. He doesn’t remember getting there. Was he not in his bunk?

Peggy puts her hand in his and pulls him close to her. He feels like she’s waiting for something, but Steve doesn’t move or say anything. Neither does she. After a while, he feels her hands slide up his arms. He blinks away more tears that have formed and watches her look at him. His shoulders are still heaving when her hands come up to touch them. He tries to still his uncontrollable body.

She comes close and without warning, her lips are on high on his cheekbone. The next moment she’s ushering him into his bunk. He feels like a scolded puppy sent to its cage. He turns over towards the wall with a frown. But then he feels something warm behind him.

“I’m so sorry Steve,” Peggy murmurs into his ear, pressing her lips again his jaw. She curls into him, her arm around his waist, her head resting against his shoulder. The rest of his defenses fall and he lets her hold him, turning so that they’re facing each other. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats as he sobs again, this time against her chest. “I’m here for you. I’m right here with you Steve.”

They spoon all night. She doesn’t leave in the morning. Peggy continues to weaver her fingers through his hair, and rub her hands down his back. But she doesn’t leave. They get up to clean themselves up, to force food into him, and for Peggy, a brief check-in up at Command where things have cooled significantly. Steve worries he’s all alone again.

But then Peggy comes back and climbs into bed with him. He doesn’t give a shit anymore. He presses his fingers into her hips and pulls her against him. When she curls her hand around his neck, he shudders and buries his face against her shoulder. Their bodies twist close together in the tiny bunk, warmth pooling between them. She lets him grip her close like his life depends on it. He thinks it might.

He dreams of the night they met.

It was at the canteen late one night after a long day of training simulations and ship duties. She’s one of three women on the ship. She’s been there for two weeks longer than the rest of them. So when Hodge, a brick head of a bully at the best of times, makes a pass at her and then tells her she can serve under him once he’s Captain of his own ship real soon because trust him, his dad’s got money so he’s sure of a promotion in a hurry, she gives him a calm request of an apology. He snorts and reaches for her ass. He’s barely made contact when she grabs his wrist, twists and then lands a punch to his jaw so quick and clean Steve’s mouth drops in wonder and quite honestly adoration. Hodge stumbles with the force of the hit and falls flat on his ass. A couple of his friends try to help him out, while the rest mostly look away not wanting to get involved. Hodge pushes his friends hands away, and red-faced marches towards her. She doesn’t look fazed but Steve finds himself there blocking his way before he can realize what’s happening.

“Easy there Hodge you don’t want to embarrass yourself a second time huh?”

“You stay out of it you pipsqueak Earther.”

It stings, like those comments always have, but he’s used to it. Had nineteen years of the like.

“That’s really original. No wonder they haven’t promoted you yet. Or is that just because your dad doesn’t have connections to Commander Phillips so your stuck proving your worth the same as they rest of us? Now if you’ll excuse me, now that your seat is vacated I wanted to get a drink.”

Hodge’s buddies talk him out of causing trouble and he walks out. Beating Steve up in front of plenty of witnesses at the canteen won’t earn him any favors. Everyone knows Phillips is a hard ass with no humor for nonsense. And Steve bets if Hodge did get in trouble, Steve would be right there with him for instigating it. It would have been worth it for the amused look Peggy Carter gives him alone.

“He’s a fun one isn’t he?” He finds himself commenting. It’s odd for him because he’s never really been able to talk to girls before. And here’s the most gorgeous one he’s ever met and he can’t stop his mouth.

She arches her brow, the amused look still present. He feels heat at the back of his neck and to avoid further making awkward motions, hefiddles with the drink he didn’t really want but felt compelled to get.

They sit there side by side in silence.

“Don’t listen to him,” he hears her say after a moment. He’s not sure what this advice is in reference to. To his harassment of her? “Not all of us come from the high life of Mars Colony.”

He’s surprised, pleasantly so, feeling a tug of connection with her already.

“You’re an Earther?” he asks excitedly. She’s the only other Earth-born that he’s met in his almost year with the service.

She nods. “Yes. I was born in London. Where are you from?”

“Brooklyn,” he tells her.

“That’s lovely. I’ve only been to Brooklyn proper once myself but visited New York frequently as a young child. My father was based there for a while.”

He dreams of how they talked for hours before they had to get shut-eye before morning duty. He dreams of how he had been so excited to talk with her again.

When he wakes up, after their third night of sleeping together, Steve kisses her once. Soft, gentle, quick. He feels too raw for anything more. Her closeness and her caring of him is a gift. They turn until they face each other, Peggy playing with his hair.

“We’ve met before,” he tells her, his voice rough with disuse. Her eyebrow quirks but she lets him continue. “On the U.S.S. Valkyrie. We were both recruits. At the canteen. You punched Gilmore Hodge. Remember him?”

She bites her lip as she thinks. “Yes, though it’s a little hazy. There have been a lot of assholes in my path.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I understand. It was almost ten years ago.”

She bites her lip as she thinks some more. “Wait. The canteen. We talked about Earth. I told you about my brother Michael.”

He nods, and the first small smile in days forms on his lips. “Yeah, your fighter pilot brother Michael.”

“You told me about your Mum. A nurse making ends meet. Why didn’t you come find me again?”

He sighs. “Two days later I got a call from the hospital Maworked at. She was dying. The Service granted me a leave of absence. She died three months later. I came straight back to the Valkyrie. You were already gone.”

Peggy kisses him, so gentle, so full of warmth it makes him cry again. She doesn’t seem off put by the tears. “The stars are not always inour favor. But I’m so glad they found us here together despite all things.” Henods numbly in response. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you Steve Rogers.”

He shrugs. “We’re here now.”

Peggy laces their fingers together. “We are here together. And I won’t leave you alone for anything. Not for all the galaxies inthe universe.”

#thesokovianaccords #steggy au mashup #my fic #maybe this will become a real fic one day #thanks for sending me these guys #they've really sparked my inspiration to write!!#steggy

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gosh-mr-big-brain · 4 years

Text

girls in white dresses and blue satin sashes (these are a few of my favourite things)

It was the beginning of December and Albion was looking like something out of a Hallmark Christmas movie. The streets were blanketed in the softest looking snow and the streetlamps were shining, giving the entire world a hazy, dreamlike feeling. Gwen smiled into her hot chocolate, wrapping her hands a little tighter around the mug.

She was curled up on her couch, thankfully far away from the biting winter cold, and listening to soft instrumental versions of her favourite Christmas songs, as she watched the first major snowfall of the year. It had been a tradition that her family had shared when she was little, gathering together to watch the first snowflakes tumble clumsily from the night sky. It was her favourite part of the winter season, so she decided to continue it even after her mother and father had passed and her brother had started travelling to far and wide places that, more often than not, didn’t have snow. Sometimes the tradition would make her feel nostalgic and a bit lonely, but right now she only felt warm and content.

Gwen snuggled a little bit deeper into her blanket and let out a soft sigh. She wished she could stay in this moment forever.

“Fuck you, you fucking arsehole! See if I ever help you with fucking Uther ever again!”

Gwen physically jumped at the sound of a slamming door and the string of curses that followed. Her hot chocolate very nearly spilled out of her mug, onto her supposedly cheap couch and brand new winter-themed pyjamas. Breathing a bit shakily as adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream, Gwen carefully set down her mug. She narrowed her eyes, trying her best to listen for anymore shouting but all was quiet now. She waited another moment but, since the silence persisted, she decided to pick up her mug again and try to relax back into the content state she had been in earlier. She had raised the hot chocolate to her lips, leaning back against the couch when-

“I fucking hate you, you arsehole! You’re the worst fucking brother ever!” There were a few more shouts, accompanied by a pounding of fists on a door.

This time, Gwen did spill her hot chocolate.

“Shit!” she whined, wincing as the hot drink seeped through her pyjamas, onto her leg. Deciding that she had had quite enough with the disruptive fighting that was occurring across the hall, Gwen set down her hot chocolate for the second time and stood up. Her neighbours were about to get a piece of her mind. She strode purposefully to her front door and flung it open with as much bravado as she could muster. “What the actual hell are you doing?” Was what she had meant to snap, anger and annoyance clear in her voice. Instead, it came out more like, “What…? Are you doing?” Regardless, it still had the desired effect.

The woman who had been shouting and pounding at her neighbour's door whirled around to face her, her dark hair swirling around her face and her eyes absolutely blazing. She looked a bit mad, actually, but Gwen was left breathless anyways. And then the woman’s eyes softened and she tried to smile pleasantly despite the anger she was still clearly feeling and Gwen nearly passed out because fuck! She was gorgeous and Gwen generally didn’t do very well when interacting with gorgeous people (See: Leon, her childhood crush). A moment passed where Gwen literally couldn’t remember how to make words come out of her mouth before the woman decided to take pity on her and speak instead.

“I’m sorry?” she said, and, oh no, even her voice was gorgeous! Bold and elegant, with a lilting accent. Gwen was screwed. Suddenly, she remembered that the woman was talking and did her best to tune back in. “... and he decides that this is the night, of all fucking nights, to finally make a move on his best friend whom he has been in love with for ages. But it’s not like I have anywhere else to stay, most of the hotels are full and the streets are absolute hell anyways. So, I figured if I were annoying enough they’d have to stop fucking and let me in out of irritation and pity. Apparently I misjudged their abilities to ignore me. I’m rambling, sorry. My brain to mouth filter absolutely disappears when I’m sleep deprived.” She scrunched up her nose into an adorable look of annoyance. “Not that you needed to know that.”

Gwen let out a rush of slightly awkward laughter. “No, it’s okay. I ramble a lot too, only when I’m nervous. Which is all the time, basically. I’m a very nervous person.” She bit her lip, trying to force herself to stop talking. “Not that you needed to know that.”

The gorgeous woman laughed, her eyes lighting up. “I’m Morgana, by the way,” she introduced herself, stretching an elegant hand out across the hall. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m Gwen. Guinevere, really, but everyone calls me Gwen,” Gwen responded, almost stumbling over herself to move further into the hallway to shake the woman, Morgana’s , hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m, uh, quite sorry that you got thrown out of your lodgings.”

Morgana smiled, again, letting go of Gwen’s hand. “I am too. Don’t get me wrong, I am desperately happy that my brother finally became self-aware enough to acknowledge his feelings and act on them but it would’ve been lovely if he did it before I got to town.” She placed a hand on her lilac suitcase that Gwen hadn’t noticed due to her looming crush and extended the handle. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes wandering as she seemed to be thinking about something else. “I suppose I’ll try to find my way over to Merlin’s and break-in. He owes me that, at the very least.” Morgana’s gaze suddenly flitted back to Gwen’s. “It was lovely meeting you Gwen, I’m sorry to have troubled you with all my shouting and then my rambling.”

She was turning to leave when Gwen was suddenly struck with a brilliant yet awful idea. “You could stay!” she blurted, her words coming out a bit stilted. “With me,” she added, to clear up any confusion.

Morgana turned back, one impeccable eyebrow raised. “Really? You’d let me, a complete stranger, stay in your home?”

“Yes,” Gwen responded, without really thinking about it. This wasn’t an action that was so out of character for her, though, Morgana was right; she wasn’t usually so accommodating to complete strangers. But there was just... something about Morgana. She felt that she had to get to know her and, even if her brother lived right across from her, she was afraid that she’d never get to see her again. “I mean, yeah, sure. You said earlier that the streets weren’t too good and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt trying to find other accommodations when I could have helped you out here. Besides, if your brother lives across the hall, you only have a very short trek to march before you can murder tomorrow morning.”

Morgana smiled widely at her. “You are a godsend, Gwen! Thank you so much!” And before Gwen even knew it, Morgana was closing the distance between them and enveloping her in a tight hug. Gwen tensed for a moment but then gave into it, hugging Morgana right back. She smelled like lavender.

“It’s not a problem,” Gwen mumbled into Morgana’s shoulder, feeling a bit embarrassed but also overwhelmingly content. “ Really ,” she stressed, as Morgana pulled away.

“Well, I appreciate it anyways,” Morgana replied. She clasped her suitcase handle again and tugged it onto its wheels. “Shall we?”

“Oh! Yes!” Gwen spun around to face her open doorway. “Just through here,” she stated, walking inside and wincing at the rather obvious statement. She could hear Morgana entering behind her, the clacking of her heels (Morgana was ready for some fancy institution or business meeting, dressed in a red blouse that was probably worth more than Gwen’s apartment and black dress pants, and here was Gwen, in hot chocolate stained pyjamas!) and the rolling of her suitcase a surprisingly comforting sound.

“Your flat is adorable!” Morgana exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. “I love it!” When Gwen turned to face her, Morgana was beaming and looking right at her.

Gwen, a bit flustered, said, “Oh, thank you! I quite like it, and it has a really lovely view.”

Instead of turning towards the window to check out the aforementioned view, Morgana kept her gaze on Gwen. “You’re right, it really is quite lovely.” Then she abruptly moved towards the window, her movements a bit more stilted than the fluid motions Gwen had become accustomed to.

Gwen shook her shook, feeling her cheeks heat up. Was this really happening? Only five minutes ago she had remarked to herself that Albion looked like something out of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Now, it appeared that she was living one. However, she wasn’t complaining. Gwen joined Morgana at the window, hopeful and excited for whatever may happen next.

#merlin #bbc merlin #morgwen #morgana #gwen #repeat after me: MORGWEN MORGWEN MORGWEN #they are in love and that is that on that #my writing

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curiositycures · 5 years

Text

Matteo goes to David's apartment

This is a very old blog that I never use but I am a huge Skam fan and have been inspired to write a quick fanfiction about the recent Druck drama. I hope you enjoy ♥️

---

Matteo knew he should have reached out earlier. He knew the past couple of days must have dragged for David. Must have caused him pain.

It hurt Matteo to think about it. But he hadn't managed to find his voice until today. He hadn't spoken to anyone. Hans and Mia had both knocked on his door a few times, and he had seen the group chat from the guys.

But his brain had been so loud and he was trying not to rely on weed anymore to calm him down, so it was taking him longer to process things.

The thing was that he didn't have the words until now. He didn't want to fuck this up, to say the wrong thing, to hurt David anymore than his silence could.

Once the words had come to him, he had immediately grabbed his keys and his shoes and left the flat. Matteo needed to speak to David. To tell him how he felt.

His nerves never left him as he strode towards David's apartment. He was right around the corner now. Matteo could feel the pinpricks of anxiety creeping up his arms. But he also felt a reassuring certainty that right now, in this moment, he knew how he felt. He knew what David meant to him.

Matteo arrived outside David's building, the lock on the front door was broken and hung on its hinges. He pushed inside and made his way up the two flights of stairs. With every step, the pinpricks of anxiety grew sharper. He was starting to feel dizzy and nauseous.

What if David had changed his mind? What if Matteo had taken too long to respond? What if David closed the door on him?

Matteo hummed under his breath, trying to drown out the pressing thoughts.

He was at David's apartment door now. Matteo could feel himself swaying. It was now or never. Any longer and it might be too late.

Matteo reached forward and pushed the buzzer. The tiny buzz felt like an electric shock. His whole body was in a heightened state. He felt like he was walking on stilts. It took all his focus and willpower to stay upright.

He heard the quiet shuffle of footsteps. Several bolts were slid aside and the door inched open.

It was Laura. She was in her pyjamas and looked surprised to see him. A hint of curiousity flashed over her face and then her expression was taken over by concern.

She gave Matteo a cautious look, assessing him. Then glanced over her shoulder as if to ensure they were alone.

"Matteo, David's in a bad place right now. I know you two talked. I know he told you... But," she shook her head, "if you're here to make him feel worse, or - or... hurt him in any way... then I think you should leave."

Laura wasn't tall by any means and she didn't look very strong, but she was giving Matteo a look that said she would take him down if he ever hurt her brother.

Matteo stood there confused. The fear and defiance on Laura's face was so alive and tangible. This wasn't simply a sister standing up for her brother, afraid that his heart would get broken. No, this was a fear born of experience - born from a real threat of violence.

The realisation made Matteo's stomach turn. Had someone threatened David in the past? Had someone tried to hurt him?... Had they succeeded?

Cautiously, Matteo took a step forward and locked eyes with Laura. He hoped she could see the honesty and vulnerability in his face.

"Laura, I would never hurt David. I know I should've come earlier. But my head... I just... I know what I need to say now." He noticed Laura's face soften, almost imperceptibly, as he continued "David needs to hear this. I need to - to tell him how I feel... about him."

Matteo hoped the softness of his voice, and the desperation in his eyes, would be enough to convince Laura that he hadn't come here to cause David any more pain.

She chewed her bottom lip and looked him over once more. Slowly she nodded and took a step backwards into the flat.

"Stay here, I'll go get him." Matteo could still see the fear lingering in her eyes as she turned to walk towards a door at the far end of the apartment. He watched her knock tentatively and call out David's name. Matteo didn't hear a response but Laura must have, she pushed open the door and talked quietly into the room.

After a few moments Laura pulled back and gave Matteo one last look before she disappeared into a room at the other end of the hall.

Matteo hadn't realised how much his head had become to spin, he reached out to the door frame and tried to gain his balance. Moments went by, it felt like centuries to Matteo but he knew it had only been four or five seconds.

He stared intently at the door that Laura had left ajar. It began to open further and Matteo held his breath as David crept out of his room.

Their eyes met across the hall and Matteo could see that David's eyes were red and swollen. His hair was flatter than normal, as if he had been laying down for a long time. David only maintained eye contact for a moment before looking back down at the ground.

Matteo felt his stomach ache and he feared that David was sick at the sight of him. Maybe this was a stupid idea? Maybe he had no idea what he was doing.

Matteo hummed slightly under his breath, as if by reflex. David glanced up, confused. He seemed to realise that Matteo didn't look too well. He looked back down at the floor and chewed his lip, mirroring Laura's expression from earlier. Matteo could see David debating something and then after a moment he began making his way across the hall to where Matteo was standing, still on the periphery of the apartment.

Matteo searched for David's eyes, waiting for the moment that David would look up into his.

After a breath, David forced his eyes from the floor and met Matteo's. What Matteo saw in David's eyes shocked him - there was so much fear and sadness. But he also saw a hint of hope, it grew stronger as Matteo took a step towards him.

"David, I'm sorry," Matteo could feel his eyes begin to sting already, "I should've come earlier, I should've messaged you... I - I'm sorry."

David held his gaze. Matteo could see David's hand twitch forward slightly as if reaching for Matteo's hand, but he stopped himself and pulled it back.

"David, I didn't come earlier because my head - it's been so loud, and I've been trying to process and it's just take a lot longer than usual." A glimmer of understanding seemed to pass over David's face. Matteo pressed on, "It's just that I wanted... I wanted to have the right words to say to you. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. I don't know much about... about what you told me. But what I do know - is how I feel about you."

David's lips parted slightly, his eyes beginning to water.

Matteo was swaying harder than ever, he was still holding tightly to the door frame throughout his short speech.

He bit his lip and let go of the frame, tentatively putting his hand out towards David's. David looked down as Matteo's hand grew closer and after a heartbeat, he reached out to meet it.

Matteo exhaled loudly. Had he been holding his breath this whole time? David let out a breath a moment later and then his lips quirked upwards. He seemed to consider something, and then smiled the most beautiful smile Matteo had ever seen. "I guess I can hold my breath longer than you."

In one moment the pinpricks in Matteo's skin disappeared, his swaying stopped, and his mind hushed into the most soothing quiet. All because of David.

He leaned forward, almost catching David by suprise. He paused for a moment to make sure David was okay but David was already pushing forward, their lips met sharply. They had both needed this so badly.

Matteo's arms curled around David's waist and David reached up to run his hands through Matteo's hair. After a few moments they both pulled back and rested their foreheads together.

A weight seemed to lift off David's shoulders as he braced himself against Matteo.

Matteo's lips curled into a grin that he tried to bite back, but David was too quick to notice. "What is it?

Matteo thought for a moment and then quitely replied "I didn't get to say what I came here to say..."

David paused for a moment, a little confused, there was more? "What did you want to say?"

Matteo blushed, his cheeks blossoming with colour. "It's just that... I realised..." He trailed off.

David raised his eyebrows, "Matteo..." He nudged him gently.

Matteo took a deep breath and brought his hands up to rest on either side of David's face.

He looked David in the eyes and said with the most certainty that he had ever felt in his life - "I realised that you, David, are the man of my life."

#druck #davenzi #skam #fanfic

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goron-king-darunia · 4 years

Note

Annon-Guy: Thank you Darunia. Glad you like the fanfic. What did you like? Any advise on how I can improve?

I liked that there was closure to Alice’s and Decus’s stories beyond what the game gave us. It never really addressed what happened to their bodies and that’s definitely something that bothered me about Aster, too, so that’s something nice to do for the people who like Alice and Decus and want that closure. The rhythm of speech (it’s hard to explain) was a bit stilted. Your writing style has a little bit of an amateurish feel to it. It’s not really something I can tell you how to fix other than by saying you should reflect on what kinds of things you like to read and go over them critically to see what they do and why they do it and if it’s something you want to add to your writing skillset. If it’s just for fun or for a hobby, you’re fine as you are. But to speak metaphorically for a moment, your fic does read the same way “beginner” art looks. You played around with your basic toolbox, but you have no real style yet. Practice makes perfect, so if you’re looking for tips on improvement in this department, all I can say is write more! :D Try free verse poetry (that is, non-rhyming poetry) to play with your vocabulary a bit. Short snippets that have an impact. You can also work on “setting the scene.” Part of the reason your work feels a little amateurish is that you’re telling the story flat-out. And it reads that way. I feel like I’m having something told to me by a stranger on a train trying to pass the time. Setting the scene can help you immerse readers. Try practicing this by sitting in your room or at your workstation and describing it in writing. What can you see? What do you hear? Are there any smells? Are there any physical sensations? Is there anything you taste? Example: I’m in my bed right now. The room is pitch dark except for the dim light of my faux fireplace, giving off a warm ambient glow. The breeze from my window is pleasantly crisp and refreshingly cool for a warm spring evening, and the breeze from my ceiling fan makes my hair tickle my cheeks. I still smell the soap wafting off my hands, a floral fragrance, and my lips still taste like grapefruit soda. My computer screen is the brightest thing, and the contrast with my surroundings makes everything else melt away. The keys clack under my fingers and the crickets outside are drowned out by the whir of my computer fan. This sets the scene much more than me saying “I’m in my room and typing to you.” Now obviously you don’t want to front-load all this information at once. But when you let it trickle in, especially when you first establish a location, this can help. Focus on what’s important to know about the scene. If your characters are in a cave, is it a nice cave? Show is by describing how pretty the light is, streaming through cracks in the stone overhead. Is the cave scary? Describe how scary it is by telling us that the darkness is oppressive and the damp, musty smell within is threatening to suffocate us. Focus on what characters are doing too and relate their physical sensations to us. Setting the scene works best when you break it up with dialogue. Example: Marta walked after Emil into the Camberto Caves. The plinking drip of water was welcoming, and the water reflected the sunlight that streamed in through gaps in the stone overhead. “Do you really think we’ll find rosemary here?” she asked Emil. “I hope so,” Emil replied meekly. The mud in flooded sections of the cave squelched beneath their boots, and the bitter herbaceous and earthy scents of the cave changed every time they turned a corner. This reads a lot more eloquently than just saying “Emil and Marta went to the Camberto Caves and looked around, trying to find rosemary.” Now this is general advice, but if anyone reading this is thinking “But I don’t know a lot of big words!” or “I can’t write like that! I can never think of nice words to use!” Don’t worry. It just takes practice and patience and a little bit of reading. Follow a word blog here on Tumblr and learn some new words, or have someone beta read your fiction to give you advice on word choices. Or read some of your favorite books and learn new words from that. The only thing I can say is DON’T JUST LOOK UP A SYNONYM FOR A WORD AND USE IT INSTEAD OF A SIMPLER WORD. If you want to improve your vocabulary, you can’t always trust what a thesaurus will tell you. Big and large both mean pretty similar things but muttered and whispered don’t mean the same thing. Muttered implies it was said in a low register, but still with a speaking voice. Whispered implies a shrill, breathy exchange of words. Not to mention that there are connotations for things. “Retort” for example, does mean “response” but it’s a loaded word. Response just means you said something and someone else said something back. But a “retort?” Usually, that means someone is being sarcastic. “You’re really something,” Richter responded. versus “You’re really something,” Richter retorted. In the first one, Richter is neutral. He may even be praising someone. In the second one, “You’re really something” is implied to be derisive or insulting. You will learn more by reading but just know there’s a big difference between an aroma, a scent, and a stench. The first is pleasant, the second is neutral, and the third is negative implying disgust. The aroma of a rose, the scent of salt air, the stench of dead fish. The connotation is just as important if not more important than actual definitions so look for words in context and try to master that. Finally, my main issue with your fanfic. Dialogue is hard to process when it’s all stacked together in a paragraph. It makes it easier to lose track of who’s saying what and requires clunky and repetitive taglines to even begin to understand it. The rule of thumb is that when you write dialogue and a new person speaks, you give them their own paragraph. “Is the food good?” Emil asked, fishing for a compliment. “It’s delicious!” Marta responded with a smile. When the dialogue is only two people, it can continue like this. “Pass the salt please.” He said. “Of course.” She slid the salt shaker closer to him. “Thanks. “No problem at all!” Because we established an order in the first section (Emil first, then Marta) we know that the “he” refers to Emil in the third line, and the “she” in the fourth line refers to Marta. When Emil speaks next, there is no tagline at all, but we know it’s Emil because it’s on a separate line just how we know the last line must be Marta again. If you diversify their speaking styles enough, you’ll always be able to tell who’s speaking, even when there are three or more people. However, it’s always best to introduce someone when they join the conversation, either by name or by a description of appearance, and once three or more people are conversing, it’s much easier to digest if every line of dialogue gets a tagline to remind us who’s speaking. Example. Richter took the salt shaker when Emil was done with it. “It’s weird. All of us eating together.” “Maybe.” Emil simpered. “But it’s also kind of nice.” “It would be less awkward if you weren’t always trying to kill me,” Marta said coldly. “M-Marta!” “It’s alright, Emil.” Richter patted the blond's shoulder. “It’s not like I don’t deserve it.” This is a complex bit of dialogue, but it tells us enough to understand. I start the first line with Richter taking the salt shaker. This indicates that he’s the one speaking. The second line is noticeably Emil because of the tagline. We know he says both “Maybe.” and “But it’s also kind of nice.” because that dialogue is linked to his tagline in the same paragraph. The third line is attributed to Marta in the same way. The fourth line has no tagline, but because Emil is known to stutter and because the next line is Richter, we know that it can’t be Marta and it can’t be Richter so we have both context and knowledge of Emil’s speaking habits to tell us who’s talking. And finally, we have Richter speaking again. This isn’t the only way to write dialogue, but this is one of the easiest ways to write it in a way that is understandable for most audiences. You can get away with other ways of writing dialogue, but it’s almost never a good choice to write a long string of dialogue among several speakers in a single paragraph. That’s all I really have to say! Sorry if it’s a bit long! For a first or very early fic, though, I liked your fanfic well enough! But I’ve been writing for years and this is the sort of advice that helped me improve beyond just being a hobbyist. I’ve won contests in my time and I didn’t get where I am by accident, so if you’re looking to go the distance and be the real deal? Consider my advice. If you’re just looking to have fun? Then fuck everything I just said. Forget every word. If writing for you is just for fun? Then do whatever makes YOU happy.

#Letters from Annon Guy #critique #writing critique #writing advice #Anonymous #ask GKD

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yume-x-hanabi · 5 years

Text

Alvin Chronicle - excerpt from ch.4: Alvin visits Elize

For @ekalinasari. You asked about the parts with Elize; I’m only including the very first one for now, because the others have them discuss his story, so I’ll do them once I get those story bits translated.

This is the beginning of the 4th chapter, aka the first chapter of the sub-story called “Longing for Elympios.”

Note: this author’s style isn’t so good and makes literal English translations sound very stilted. Since this is just an excerpt, I’m keeping it literal. Sorry if it sounds weird. (If I ever manage to finish the whole chapter, I’ll have it edited into better English.)

----

Sharilton was bustling with activity. It had been a thriving city for a while already, but it had managed to get even more animated in the past year. Alvin truly realized that as he was walking through the central plaza.

Everyone would agree that the biggest city in Rieze Maxia was Fennmont, followed by Kanbalar. And no one would argue if you claimed that Sharilton was third. That is how impressive that city’s prosperity was. There were even talks that it was the city that benefitted the most from the unification of Rashugal and Auj Oule into the single nation of Rieze Maxia.

Alvin agreed. The reasons were various, but a big one was that the long-term tensions between House Sharil and House Fenn had been dispelled, and travel between Sharilton and Fennmont had become smooth as a result. In the past, goods and merchandise were often stopped at the checkpoints at Fort Gandala, but this wasn’t the case anymore.

The people’s faces were cheerful as they went about their day. That was probably because they no longer feared that a war would start with House Fenn or even Auj Oule.

Wealth grows where people gather.

The current Sharilton was an important city Alvin could not ignore. Many shops were lined up at the edge of the plaza. When he passed in front of one of them, a young woman called out to him.

“Hello, Handsome. Are you looking for something?”

Alvin stopped in his tracks.

It was a florist, with colorful flowers brightening the storefront. Red flowers, blue flowers, white flowers, yellow flowers, large flowers, small flowers… There were flowers of all kinds, shapes or forms, perfuming the whole area.

“Sorry, but I’m not from here. I wouldn’t have a place to adorn, so…” He almost finished with “if you want to talk someone into buying them, find another dupe,” but he changed his mind at the last minute. “No, actually, I should get some for the occasion.”

“Thank you! Which ones would you like?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Let’s see… Something seasonal, maybe…”

Alvin chose flowers to assemble a bouquet with the help of the florist.

“Thank you for your patronage!”

He responded to her enthusiastic parting by raising his right hand, and left the shop.

He left the plaza and walked toward a residential neighborhood where one could admire rows of the wealthy class’ elegant mansions. However, Alvin’s destination was not there, but a school located a bit further than the Sharil manor. As the Sharil heads had all favored education for generations, Sharilton’s school environment was quite developed. For that reason, children from other towns would even enroll in Sharilton’s schools. Alvin knew that because she had told him about it in her letters.

Alvin reached the school just as students were being let out. He could see the numerous children wearing various outfits go out the school gates and run toward their families waiting for them outside. Despite the congestion, Alvin spotted her immediately. She was walking with two other girls who looked about her age, most likely her classmates.

She had grown a little since the last time he’d seen her. She looked a little more mature, probably because she had a new hairstyle. Her navy blue blazer suited her well.

Alvin thought people must find him suspicious—a man like him, waiting alone in front of a school, looking intently at a young girl. Just when he was smiling at the thought, she turned toward him. Perhaps she had felt his gaze on her. Her green eyes widened in surprise when she saw him.

“Alvin…!?”

“Yo. Been a while.”

Alvin walked toward the girl—Elize—and casually handed her the bouquet.

“It’s not much, but I got you a little something. Would you accept it?”

“Eh… That’s…”

The two girls at her side squealed.

“Wow, he’s offering you flowers. Elize, you’re so popular!”

“Hey, is this the boyfriend you were talking about?”

“N-No…” Elize’s cheeks turned red. “I… I said nothing like that.”

“You did! You said you were close to an older guy!”

“That’s… We’re just exchanging letters. And there’s Jude and Rowen, too…”

“Huh? You’re three-timing?”

“Ah, excuse me, little misses?” Alvin tried to intervene.

“Alvin, you stay quiet. You’ll only make things more complicated,” Elize retorted sharply.

“Okay, okay…”

A while later…

Alvin went back to the central plaza with Elize, and they sat facing each other at a café’s open terrace.

“You should have told me you were coming. I was really surprised,” Elize said, looking displeased. She slurped her soda with a straw.

“Sorry. I had urgent business in the area, so I didn’t have the time to send a letter,” Alvin answered. He then brought his coffee cup to his lips. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Isn’t it? Everyone at school is talking about this café.”

Elize seemed happier now that he had praised her favorite café. She had looked sour the whole time since they had left the school, but now she finally smiled.

“You’re just like a little lady from a good family. Your tastes have become refined.”

Elize was the one who had picked this place. Alvin had suggested they have tea, and she had decided to show him her favorite place—dragging him here by the arm.

The other girls had squealed about her going on a date, but she had vehemently denied it.

“You should have brought your friends along. I could have treated you three.”

“No… That’s not good…” Elize shook her head.

“Why are you so against it?”

“Because…” She looked down and breathed into her straw, making bubbles in her soda. “You know… Just in case…”

“In case of what?”

“…Anyway, no is no!” Elize raised her voice to indicate this topic was over. She looked a little flustered.

It seemed like it was better not to pursue the topic. If he teased her the wrong way, she would get in a bad mood again, and he wasn’t confident he could recover, then.

So Alvin decided to change the subject. “Looks like you’re doing well at school.”

“Y-Yes. Quite well,” Elize nodded. “I had a lot of worries before… But once I started attending for real, everyday’s been really fun. I’ve also made some friends.”

“I see.”

Elize went on to talk about her school life to Alvin.

For example, she talked about her lessons. According to her, her grades were quite good. Her guardian, Driselle, was quite strict about studying, and scolded her when she was slacking off. Her favorite subject was, surprisingly, mathematics, and she had no weak subject.

She also talked about her friends. The two girls she was with earlier had approached her on the first day of class, and they had been friends ever since. They even spent time together after classes. One of them had a crush on one of the boys in their class, and Elize and the other one were encouraging her. Elize’s expression looked bright. She sounded much less timid than before. It was the proof that her current life was so fulfilling that she was becoming mentally stronger. A full year hadn’t yet passed from the time she would tremble if she was separated from Teepo. Girls her age really grew up fast.

As Alvin thought fondly about Elize’s growth, he realized that the fact that he was looking at children that way must mean that he had become older.

“Oh no. I’ve only been talking about myself.”

“It’s okay. Your stories are fun.”

“Really? I’ve just been talking about normal boring stuff.”

“It’s nice because it’s normal.” Alvin finished his coffee and set his empty cup on the table. “I’ve never attended school, so every little detail sounds interesting to me.”

“Ah…” Elize looked guilty. “I’m sorry… I got carried away…”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’m moping about my circumstances. Even if I didn’t go to school, I learned a bunch of things.”

“Now that I think of it, you’ve never talked about what you were doing when you were my age.”

“Do you want to hear about it?”

“Yes, I do,” she replied.

“Okay. It might not be a bad thing to talk about it once in a while. But before that, I’ll order another cup. Do you want a refill?”

“Ah… I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to refrain, you know? Why not get cake instead?”

“Please don’t tempt me. I’ve been resisting this whole time.”

“Sorry.”

He almost commented that this was very lady-like of her, but he kept it to himself. Alvin ordered another coffee from a waitress who was passing near their table, and started talking while waiting for it.

“This happened around thirteen years ago, when I was fourteen…”

With that introduction, he started recounting…

#tales of xillia #alfred vint svent #elize lutus #alvin chronicle #yume translations

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humansunshineao3 · 5 years

Text

The City That Never Sleeps

Luke brings Maryse home for the first time

Read on AO3 here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m fine to drive you home, you don’t have to-”

“Lucian,” Maryse insisted, touching his arm. “I want to come upstairs with you.”

They were standing at Luke’s door after their fifth date, a round of drinks at a fancy wine bar across town. The butterflies in his stomach felt more like fruit bats at this point. Maryse looked a little nervous too, but there was determination in her eyes.

Maryse swallowed hard, eyes darting away. “That is, if you want me to, I can go if you-”

“No, I’d love it.” Luke answered hastily, clearing his throat. “I mean…”

Maryse was giggling a bit, and Luke laughed nervously, patting down his pockets.

“Imagine if I’d just lost my key,” Luke joked, digging it out of his jacket and slotting it in the keyhole.

As they climbed the stairs, Maryse’s hand slipped into Luke’s, her fingers cool against his warm palms. He gave her hand a little squeeze and led her up to his apartment, the butterflies in his stomach growing. Thank God he’d tidied the apartment before he left, he thought, sending a thanks to Simon for that particular suggestion. Even though Simon’s wiggling eyebrows had made Luke scoff at the time, he was thankful for his adoptive son’s devious little mind at times like these.

“How long has it been since you brought someone home?” Maryse asked tentatively as Luke unlocked the door to his apartment.

Luke shrugged, his face hot. “I mean Ollie’s been over to bounce ideas off each other…” He glanced at Maryse, and smiled wryly, “but that’s not what you meant.”

“Nope,” Maryse smiled, her hand sliding across the wall to find the light switch.

“I honestly can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend here.” Luke admitted, his eyebrow arching at the look on Maryse’s face.

She was looking at his Clary Wall with an emotion somewhere between shock, wonder and concern. Luke realised, then, that normal thirty-something men didn’t have mindmaps detailing their daughter’s whereabouts, especially not after they’d been found safe and well. With Jonathan still on the loose, though, it just made sense to keep it all up.

“Now I see what you meant when you said you were married to your work,” Maryse teased, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Where’s the couch?”

“Oh, um, I have another chair…”

“You don’t have a couch?” Maryse asked, her eyebrow arching. “Next you’ll be telling me you don’t have a bedframe.”

Luke laughed nervously, scratching his forehead. “Well, funny story…”

“Lucian,” Maryse was using her Mom Voice with her sparkly mischievous eyes, and frankly, it was making Luke squirm. “Tell me you have an adult bed.”

“It’s technically more of a futon,” Luke explained, and Maryse laughed, taking his hand once more.

“Okay, we’re getting you a bedframe.”

“Now? It’s 11pm,” Luke pointed out, glancing up at the clock.

Maryse shrugged, tugging him towards the front door. “We’re in New York, aren’t we? The city that never sleeps?”

Luke smirked, letting her pull him back down the stairs once he’d locked up again. “Alright, if you can find a furniture store open at 11pm, I will buy whatever bed you want.”

“Don’t give me that kind of power, I could make you buy a bunk bed.” Maryse teased, her eyes on her phone. When they reached the sidewalk, she turned her phone to show him the website of a furniture store down near Magnus’ loft. Up at the top of the page, in big bold letters, were the words ‘open 24/7’, and Luke groaned.

“Please don’t make me buy a bunk bed,” he begged as he flagged down a cab.

Maryse grinned at him, her eyes crinkling. “I think it’s in my best interest to choose something nice.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure have expensive taste, huh,” Luke chuckled, letting Maryse pull him over to the luxury section. There was absolutely no-one else in the shop except for the salesperson, who was wisely giving the couple space to browse.

“It’s a lifetime investment,” Maryse shrugged, “every grown-up needs a decent bed.”

“Says the one who slept on Institute beds until recently.”

“Oh, I insisted on having my own bed in New York, I paid Ragnor Fell to help me portal it to Alicante,” Maryse admitted, “I couldn’t deal with those lumpy mattresses any longer. Robert said…” Her face went a little sour, and she cut herself off. “Never mind.”

Luke squeezed her hand, bringing it up to his face to kiss her knuckles. “I have one question for you.”

“Hmm?” Maryse asked apprehensively.

“Do you think it’s acceptable for a grown man to have a bed with drawers underneath?”

Maryse bit her lip to hide a smile, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Drawers are allowed, they’re a smart storage solution. A grown man loves smart storage solutions.”

“Remind me to keep you out of my kitchen for a couple of weeks,” Luke grimaced, which made Maryse laugh, pulling him along to look at the beds. “How about this one?” They stopped in front of a kingsize bed with a simple wooden slatted headboard.

“I have a feeling you’ll want a padded headboard,” Maryse shrugged, continuing down the aisle. “More comfortable to sit up and read in bed that way. And I figure you like to bring your work home with you.”

Luke nodded, impressed. “You really do think of everything, huh?”

“I recognise your work ethic,” Maryse replied, “it’s one of the things I like most about you.” It was out of her mouth before she could think twice about it, and she almost regretted it for a moment before she saw the way that it made Luke light up.

“How about this one?” Luke asked, too shy to respond to her compliment. He was an alpha and a detective, and he’d known Maryse for most of his life, and yes, he’d flirted first, but he’d never in a million years expected her to be interested. Honestly, he thought their first date was going to be awkward and stilted, but they’d ended up tipsy and giggling in a quiet corner of the Hunter’s Moon, both of them blushing with the weight of Alec and Magnus’ furtive glances from across the room. It was the most fun Luke had had in years, and then Maryse kissed him in the back of the cab on the way home and it had ignited these fluttering feelings deep in his gut that he hadn’t experienced in decades.

“Looks good,” Maryse agreed. She steeled herself for a moment, letting go of Luke’s hand to walk around the bed. “We should try it out.”

“Yeah, probably,” Luke said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and bouncing a little. “It feels good.

Maryse laughed, smoothing down her dress as she lay down on her back. “Anyone would think you were scared to touch me,” she accused playfully, patting the bed next to her.

“Not scared,” Luke grumbled, scratching the back of his neck as he moved to lie beside her. “Just… I don’t wanna be that guy who pushes you into uncomfortable situations.”

Maryse turned over onto her side, her hand under her face. She was still fully made up, in her fancy date dress, and she looked painfully gorgeous. Luke turned over to face her, too. “Are you uncomfortable?” She asked, her eyebrow arched.

“Well, this mattress is a little hard…” Luke smirked, glancing away and then back at her. “But no. Nervous, maybe…”

“I make you nervous?” Maryse looked all too pleased to hear that, and Luke huffed.

“You hadn’t noticed?”

“Well…” Maryse giggled, shifting a tiny bit closer. “Maybe a little.”

Luke groaned, covering his face. “It’s ridiculous, I feel like a teenager.”

“Me too,” Maryse confessed, biting her lip. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel so… Silly, irrational…”

“Giddy,” Luke added, and Maryse nodded.

“Exactly.”

Luke reached out to take her hand. “That’s what I like most about you. Of all the things I ever expected to learn about you, Maryse Lightwood, I never expected to find out that you’re secretly a lot of fun.”

“I’ve worked very hard to keep that secret,” Maryse tutted, her thumb smoothing over the back of his hand. “Don’t go telling anyone.”

“Cross my heart,” Luke smiled.

“Erm, sorry to interrupt…”

Maryse and Luke both sat up at the nasally sound of the salesperson’s voice.

“Are you planning to buy this bed?”

Luke looked at Maryse questioningly, and she shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I think I am,” he answered, getting up to dig his wallet out of his back pocket. "It's a lifetime investment, so I thought I'd better be sure."

Maryse giggled, pressing her fingers to her mouth.

#shadowhunters fanfiction #luke garroway #maryse lightwood #lukemaryse #canon verse #writing #good to reblog

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